Wandering Rurouni
by fingers-falling-upwards
Summary: Through mysterious events, Kenshin winds up in Middle Earth. With nothing but a familiar snarky voice in his head to guide him, his hope of returning home is dwindling. While he's here though, he might as well help out his new friends. Battousi Kenshin is in the story!
1. A Twist of a Knife, I MEAN, Fate

Hey! Yeah, I really, really should not be starting another story, but alas, this has been sitting on my computer for a year or two and I feel it is finally time to post it.

So** Lord of the Rings** and **Rurouni Kenshin**. . . . Who would have thunk it?

This was born because it is the fanfiction that I always wanted to read. Sadly I had to write it myself.

* * *

Chapter One: Firmament

***BOOM!* *POP* **

Colors rained down above his head. The music and chattering of the guests encompassed him, as he picked his way through the crowd. He glanced around for his uncle, and spotted the elderly hobbit surrounded by the town children who were positively captivated by his storytelling.

"_Uncle always could tell the best stories," _Frodo thought to himself amused, as his uncle drew gasps and "Wow!'s" from his miniature crowd with his vivid descriptions. He knew that their reactions made the entire evening, and three months planning, all worthwhile to Bilbo. His uncle, Frodo decided, was never more comfortable, then when he was surrounded by the shinning eyes of the hobbit children. Who hung upon his every word, his every pause, and his every gesture.

Frodo remembered when he was the only one in the crowd. He was probably the first person to hear of Bilbo's tales. When Bilbo first took him in as a child, he was stricken with his parent's death and Bilbo was positively hopeless with children back then, let alone children who were mourning the loss of their parents.

Frodo had refused to speak for weeks; he ate very little and spent the better part of his days on his bed, staring blankly into space. He may as well have been dead to the world. He hardly even noticed his uncle was around. Bilbo would speak to him every hour on the hour, trying to get even the smallest sentence in return. When he ran out of city gossip and all the questions he could think of, he read every book he could find out loud to him. After he went through all the novels, he started on the cookbooks, listing all the ingredients and methods of preparations, when those were so thoroughly done he could list off all the ingredients to his favorite potpie, he moved on to the oral histories of the family's in the shire.

When Bilbo seemed exhausted to the point of giving up, he remembered his many travels. If he could outwit Gollum and ogres alike, there was no way he would give up on his nephew. Inspiration struck and the weariness from the weeks seemed to fade, if only a little.

"Frodo, child," He began quietly and perhaps hopefully, "how would you like to hear about my adventures through middle earth?" Frodo gazed listlessly at the ceiling. Bilbo took a deep breath and began.

"It all started with a dragon. . . . . "

"Mr. Frodo. Mr. Frodo!" The call broke him out of his musings to realize he had been standing there for a while, Bilbo and the hobbit children had long dispersed. He turned to find his best friend and gardener, Samwise Gamgee looking around rather frantically in the opposite direction, among a gaggle of old hobbit women.

"_Probably looking for me."_ A mischievous smile made its way onto his face

He trotted over, carefully avoiding the bar-maiden who was juggling a tray full of precariously placed mugs. He snuck up from behind his blonde friend

"Yes Sam?" He whispered into his ear. Frodo laughed openly, as Sam leapt up into the air with a little yelp.

"Geez, Mr. Frodo! You shouldn't do that to people!" Sam said, blushing in embarrassment at the stares that got directed their way.

"Sorry Sam, I couldn't resist," Frodo replied, hiding his large smile behind his hand. Sam gave a half-hearted glare in his direction, knowing he couldn't stay angry at his brunette friend. He huffed a sigh.

"You've been hangin' around Merry and Pippin to much Mr. Frodo," He said a little sullenly "Their impish ways are beginning to rub off on you."

"That may be so," Frodo replied, grin still evident on his face. "What were you calling me for, anyways Sam?" He queried.

"Er, well the Sackville Baggins are here and I don't think they'll be leaving until they find your uncle." Sam's face showed distaste for the relatives who constantly intruded Frodo, and Bilbo's lives. Frodo sighed a little

"Thanks Sam, I'll find my uncle and let him know. Though, in the meantime, I think you should maybe find Rosie. I bet she would love a dance with you."

"Mr. Frodo!" Sam squeaked. Frodo chuckled and turned towards the thick crowd of hobbits in search of his uncle.

"_Finding him is easier said than done." _He thought exasperatedly. _"Well I won't find him by just standing here." _He joined the jumble of hobbits.

* * *

Gandalf smiled at the hobbit children, before assenting to do another magical firework.

"_I think the butterfly's will do nicely," _He mused as he began setting up, when suddenly he felt a cool breath blow through him. He shivered and looked towards the sky.

"_Such an ominous wind, I wonder what it could mean." _

"Gandalf?" A hobbit child, Lena, if he recalled correctly, asked worriedly. He realized his face was twisted into a deep frown and he was probably scaring the children with his seriousness. He relaxed his face and shoved the deep feeling of foreboding aside.

"I'm sorry my children, my mind wanders from time to time, thank you for helping me find it. Could you forgive an old man?" He smiled gently turning to Lena, and she giggled at being addressed so politely and respectfully.

"I think I could, but if you did more fireworks, I surely could forgive you," She replied, biting her lip hopefully.

Gandalf's eyes twinkled and his response was twenty or so, glittering, sparkling butterflies popping into the air, making the children squeal in delight. Gandalf looked towards the sky again.

"_Will it be a punishment or a gift that shall befall?" _Gandalf couldn't help himself for desperately wishing for the latter.

* * *

The evening was reaching its climax, and already a few of the children had been dragged, kicking and screaming to their respective hobbit holes.

Merry and Pippin were scrubbing furiously at a seemingly, never ending pile of dishes. They were dirty, sweaty and covered with soot, but their jubilant smiles were unmistakable. Their work this evening was a smashing success.

"Don't get your soot on the clean dishes." Gandalf called, chewing thoughtfully on his pipe. "And put your backs into it!" He threw in as an afterthought, and Gandalf was pleased to hear the scrubbing pick up.

"Barmy old wizard . . ." Merry muttered under his breath, making Pippin chortle.

"Hmm, did you say something Meriadoc?" He smiled when he felt them stiffen behind him.

"N-n-no sir, Gandalf, just uh admiring what a beautiful night it was tonight, right Pip?" He elbowed his counterpart. Gandalf heard a dish shatter and shook his head at the two.

"Ouch Merry! Why'd you elbow me? You made me drop the plate!"

"Because Pip, it's such a _beautiful _night I thought you might have wanted to share it with Gandalf."

"Why would I want to do that?"

"Well be- because. Ugh Never mind Pip."

"What's wrong Merry? You're eye's all twitchy and stuff."

"**Nothing Pippin,"** He ground out dangerously Gandalf chuckled at their expense.

All the hobbits were gathered in the sitting area enjoying the delicious cake that Belba Bolger had prepared. The stout woman looked around proudly at the result of her hard work, and Frodo couldn't imagine anyone ever making a cake to top the one Belba had presented tonight; in both quantity and quality.

"Speech Bilbo! Speech! Speech!" The hobbits were now assembling by the podium, chanting. Bilbo was soaking the attention like a sponge, and made a big show of wondering if he should go up and do a birthday speech. Frodo grinned, knowing his uncle had been preparing his speech even before he began planning his birthday.

He finally made his way onto the make-shift stand. A hush fell about the crowd even the remaining children were still in anticipation.

"My dear Bagginses and Boffins, Tooks and Brandybucks, Grubbs, Chubbs, Hornblowers, Bolgers" Here Frodo could have sworn he winked at Belba, but he dismissed it and turned back to his uncle.

" . . .is my one-hundred and eleventh birthday."

"Happy Birthday!" The roar was deafening.

"Alas one-hundred and eleven years is far too short a time to live amongst such brave and admirable hobbits." There was a general stir of agreements and warm smiles.

"I don't know half of you, half as well as I should like, and I like less than half of you, half as well as you deserve." The silence was awkward, except for Gandalf, who Frodo noticed was looking quite mirthful.

"I – I-have—" Just has his uncle began thumbing through his pocket when there was an explosion and a bright light shone from above. A large pale circle opened up in the sky. The thin disk was probably 20 feet or more across, with rippling energy jumping across its surface.

Gandalf pulled out his staff apprehensively, as the hobbits began screaming and breaking apart, trying to get out from underneath its massive shadow. Many ran, not glancing back, as they ran for the woods and hills.

Frodo ran to Bilbo, who seemed shaken, and was furiously trying to shove something back into his breast-pocket.

"Bilbo! Are you alright?" Bilbo nodded, not trusting his voice, but he still stood sharply and headed towards Gandalf, Frodo trotting behind.

"Gandalf, what is that!"

Gandalf never had a chance to answer as something fell from the circle, the outline of a body became clearer and clearer as it approached the ground at a dangerous speed. It was only Gandalf's quick thinking, which saved the boy from certain death.

Gandalf muttered a quick phrase in Elvish before thrusting his staff towards the body, and it slowed down as though, it was falling through water, not air. He hurriedly gave Frodo his staff and went forward to catch the person before they hit the ground.

The few remaining hobbits, about ten or so, that hadn't high-tailed it out of there, approached cautiously. Curiosity overwhelmed their sense of self-preservation.

At first glance, it appeared to be girl, with the long, albeit, dirty hair and pink outfit. But Gandalf knew better, for the jaw was a little wider and eyebrows too sharp, lacking that feminine softness. They had the most unusually distinct scar on his face. . . an x. Gandalf also noticed the sword that was carried around his waist. He frowned and discreetly pulled it out of his pant loop and hid it amongst his robes.

He decided, that for the moment, he would keep that fact to himself.

The hobbits gasped when they realized it was one of the big folk. (Albeit a short one)

"What is a human doing here?" One asked

"How did it do that? Is it some sort of sorcery?"

"Nay it is not a human but some manner of beast!" Yet another answered

The boy began stirring and they fell silent watching the mysterious youth.

He cracked one violet eye, surprising Frodo with the color, and scanned his surroundings. His eyes were glassy and dazed. And he didn't seem to be taking in any of what he was seeing. His breath was uneven and he was obviously tense in Gandalf's arms.

"_D-dokko ka?"_ He rasped out. Those gathered looked at each other, wondering if the other might have understood what he said.

"Child, can you understand me?" Gandalf asked, examining the boy for any signs of understanding, for what he was saying.

"_Wakarimasen _. . . ." The boy trailed off, eyebrows furrowing before a hand shot to his side.

"_Itai!_" The hobbits jumped at the sudden movement and Gandalf immediately adjusted the way he was holding the boy to accommodate the movement. Frodo looked over and realized he was grasping his left side tightly and a red liquid was spilling through his hands. It took Frodo a minute to realize it was blood.

"Blood! Gandalf they're bleeding!" Frodo was panicky. Gandalf looked around for the source and swore mutedly.

"Does anyone have bandages and medicine?" He asked, the hobbits stood stock still.

"DOES ANYONE HAVE BANDAGES AND MEDICINE!" They all started and replied with stuttering and varying yes's and no's.

"If you have any supplies to spare please, bring them to my house," Bilbo said taking charge,

"And somebody fetch Linda Proudfoot! Now, come, we must lay him down in a bed and stop the bleeding." The ten or so hobbits disassembled and quickly scurried on their way. Gandalf changed how he held the boy again, trying to not to jostle him too badly and began swiftly walking towards Bag-end. Frodo and Bilbo had to run to keep up with the wizard's long strides. The boy thankfully, went unconscious form the pain, and Gandalf figured it would be some time before he would awaken again.

"Did Gandalf say 'he?'" The surrounding hobbits shrugged.

* * *

The evening did not go how anyone expected, even Bilbo, who had planned for a surprise, was caught off guard by the arrival of the mysterious youth.

It was only thanks to Linda, whose skill in treating injuries saved the boy from bleeding to death.

"He's more scarred than Gaffer. . . ." She muttered under her breath as she tied the last knot on the bandage.

"That's all I can do for him, I'm afraid." She swept her hand across her sweaty forehead

"It's up to chance now. I'm not sure who did this, but I can safely say that this was done by something sharp . . . most likely a sword. He was probably . . . attacked-I . . . ." She turned away from his youthful face.

"Excuse me, I need to go."

She was about to leave when her hand hesitated on the doorknob and she turned to face them.

"B-bring him down for a checkup if . . ." The "_If he lives" _hung heavy in the air.

Bilbo nodded and gave her a quick hug.

"Thank you so much my dear, I don't know what we would have done without you." Her smile was a little teary but she seemed to feel a little better.

"_Hobbits aren't equipped to deal with such matters; they should never know the feeling of blood, or steel of weapons in their hand, only the feel of the harvest grain, and handle of their mug of ale. Their innocence and naivety is part of what makes them such a charming race . . ." _Gandalf thought morosely.

"Would you like to stay for a cup of tea my dear, maybe a bit of sponge cake?" Bilbo asked gesturing to the kitchen.

"No, I'm quite alright now, thank you for asking, but I really should be getting home to my husband." The three thanked her earnestly for her hard work and bade her farewell. They shuffled towards their guest to see how he was faring.

The boy's face was pale as an elf, and his breathing was still erratic, a few words slipped through his mouth but none of them could make anything of it.

"Kaoru-dono . . . . . Tomoe . . . . "

Frodo was the first to fall asleep, curled up in the chair in the corner. Gandalf smiled at the sight.

Bilbo turned in for the night next, but he seemed a little distracted and maybe even irritated to Gandalf's keen gaze.

As soon as he heard snores emanate from Bilbo's room, Gandalf pulled the sword carefully from his long robes.

It was probably the most unusual sword Gandalf had ever seen. It was thinner than most swords, there was a slight curve to the sheathe and to the hilt. The guard wasn't as large as most swords, but instead went all the way around the sword. He grasped the unusually long hilt, and pulled it out of the sheath silently as he could, and blanched. The sharp side of the sword was opposing the curve. He flipped it over to see if perhaps he was holding it wrong, but even he could tell it that it was the wrong way of holding it.

"_Perhaps the young man uses methods simply beyond my comprehension. After all who knows how they fight where ever he is from."_

Gandalf gazed down and took in the youthful features.

"_Too young to be carrying a sword, . . . . . . and far too young to be dying of it." _He winced.

"If only that were the case," He said softly to himself.

"If only."

* * *

"AHHHHHHhhhgggg!" Screams littered the air as he swiftly knocked out multiple people at once. He stepped forward, his Ki was harsh and threatening and he made no move to reel it in. These people were attacking his home, the people he loved; mercy wasn't in his dictionary at this point. Thank Kami Kaoru and Yahiko were at the store.

"Very impressive, even more so than I've heard from stories, wouldn't you agree _Battousai?"_ Kenshin glared and whipped towards the source of the voice, as a man stepped out of the shadow of a building.

"Are you the one behind this? What do you want with Kenshin you bastard!" Sanosuke Sagara was blatantly pissed off. The other man didn't even glance his way, keeping his gaze locked with Kenshin's.

"If you won't answer, I'll just have to _liberate _some answers." Sano cracked his knuckles threateningly.

"Revenge." The word was spoken softly. The man seemed to gather himself together. He was short, and Kenshin would even go as far as saying, he was frail and delicate looking. His hair was thinning and it simply didn't look like he would make it much longer.

"It's revenge for those who can't get it for themselves."

"_Isn't it always?" _A voice echoed tiredly from his mind. Kenshin bowed his head, bangs falling over his eyes.

"_By taking one person's life, it affects everyone around them. It sets off a cycle of revenge, one that isn't easily stopped," _He reflected and his thoughts briefly settled on Tomoe and Enishi.

"_Nonetheless one would think that, the scars would be buried over time, just as the bodies would," _The voice stated, before continuing, "_Time buries everything eventually, makes us forget things; even things that should never be forgotten." _Kenshin grit his teeth at the voice.

"_Was that supposed to comfort me?" _Kenshin thought to himself.

"Hey look guy—" Sano started, but Kenshin put a hand on his shoulder, silently telling him he would handle it.

"What is your name?" He asked the man.

"Kaito Nagakura. My brother was Shinpachi Nagakura, captain of squad two of the Shinsengumi." He spoke with quiet anger.

"I remember him, he fought well, for what he believed in," Kenshin commented quietly

"Yes, but no match for a blade such as yours, right Hitokiri?" Kenshin said nothing.

"Just . . . Just why! Why did you take my little brother from me? What gave _you _the right?" He demanded, Kenshin felt his Ki spike and shifted into a defense position.

"That was never my intention, we were on opposing sides it was just a sad twist in fate that our swords crossed. I am sorry." Inside he couldn't help but feel like he deserved every cruel words or punch the guy could throw, despite what he said. This was the part of the product of his hard work in the Bakumatsu. He had brought this on himself, but if he did allow this kind of justice, the cycle would never stop, and the man would never find inner peace with violence.

"We were so proud when we heard he was a samurai. . . . .I remember Okaa-san bragging to her friends at the market . . . . No one had the right to take him away from us!" This was killing Ki he sensed emanating from Kaito.

"I'll kill you for that!" He spat out. Kenshin settled in the familiar Battou-jutsu stance, prepared for anything. The man didn't appear to have a katana, the only thing visible was a small snow white dagger, that appeared to be carved out of stone, tied around his neck, and a small wakizashi. Suddenly he threw some small round ball to the ground and smoke filled the air around Kenshin.

"Kenshin!" He heard Sano's worried call.

"_Shit, that's not good. " _He couldn't run out, because he could risk involving any of the neighbors, so he leapt up into the air, out of the smoke, and scanned the area for Kaito. A knife, attached to a long, thin chain, flew towards him from the smoke, briefly catching him off guard, as he hurriedly blocked it with his sword. The chain wrapped around his sword and grew taut, restricting his movement. He had no chance at blocking the second throwing knife that whizzed into his side. He gasped in pain as he fell back into the rapidly dispersing smoke. The chain, quickly slackened and was pulled back into a waiting Kaito's arms.

"_Great he predicted that I would go up instead of around, that means he probably knows I don't want to involve others in the fight." _He grit his teeth. _"He might use that against me." _A low whistle echoed in his mind.

"Kenshin!" He heard Sano's worried call,

"_Wow a Kyoketsu-Shoge, haven't seen one of those in a while. It's especially see to see one with a chain. That must have been what we thought the wakizashi was. " _The voice in his head said, tone analytical. Kenshin growled,

"_Not even remotely helpful, I think it's actually counter-productive, because you're distracting me!" _He riled, outwardly he frowned when he realized that Kaito already had another smoke ball poised to throw.

"_Calm down, Rurouni, look, that idiot is probably so happy he landed a hit, he'll just keep trying the same attack. The biggest advantage that guy has, is being hidden in the smoke, and the fact that you're too much of a self-sacrificing dumbass, to go to the side (I call THAT counter-productive). So basically you won't know where he is until he attacks."_

"_Yeah, yeah, what's your point?" _ Kenshin asked.

"_Follow the chain you idiot!" _Kenshin would've hit himself at his own denseness, before he realized A: He was in the middle of a fight and B: He would look like a crazy person.

Coming back to reality, he prepared himself for the next attack, like expected Kaito threw the smoke bomb again and Kenshin jumped back into the air. When the kyoketsu flew towards him, he blocked, letting it easily wrap around his sword. Reaching out with his Ki he sensed Kaito's and waited for the spike that would come with the second attack.

"_Got to time this just right or he'll still have that damn knife when I close in, and I really don't need him throwing that at my face today." _

Right as he felt it, he yanked sharply on the chain, and felt the knife graze a few hairs, but still, a miss is a miss. He felt the voice's grin at his success. He quickly grabbed the chain, and sheathed the sword.

Then, using the momentum he got, from using his own Battou-jutsu in the air, he entered a spinning arc, guided by the chain, and his blunt sword hit Kaito squarely in the chest. Kaito spat blood at the ground, Kenshin kneeled exhausted, adrenaline leaving him and a dull throbbing from the wound, permeating his entire body.

"Nice job, Kenshin!" Sano said pumping a fist in the air.

"W-why?" Kaito asked, weather it was for why he was alive, or why his brother wasn't Kenshin didn't know. He felt he had to respond any way's though.

"Were it not for this Sakbatou you would be dead. In fact if we do not hurry and get you treated, you might die anyways."

"_That goes for both of us," _He thought wincing, he had lost too much blood and already his sight was getting blurry. He shook himself, trying to stay alert.

"N-no. This isn't fair . . . You shouldn't be alive!" Kaito cried out towards the grey sky, tears falling down his face. The injustice was almost too much for him to handle.

Kenshin gave a weary sigh, his eyes slipping up to the slate colored firmament. He understood. Entirely and wholly.

He was beginning to wonder if he could ever truly leave his past behind him. The way it followed him though, he almost doubted it.

Either way, now was not the time for these thoughts, he needed to save Kaito. Pulling his eyes away from the darkened horizon, he offered what he hoped came off as a soft, understanding smile.

"I carry this Sakbatou as my own way for atoning for those lives taken in the war. I promised myself that I would never kill again. Also, that in my own way, I can protect the people around me." He smiled tiredly.

"I imagine your brother, probably wanted the same thing. He probably wanted to protect you." Kaito was quiet, but Kenshin could still see the tears running down his face. He had lost the will, it was over. He slowly approached the man, setting a calming hand on his back.

"Saa, let's get you patched up. A good friend of mine is a wonderful doctor, I'm sure sh—"

"Kenshin watch out!" Kenshin tried to jump back, but it was too late, Kaito wrapped the chain around Kenshin's wrist and pulled him up, knife to his throat.

"Kenshin! Why you! . . . " Sano growled in frustration.

"Don't even think about moving, or do you not care what happens to your friend?"

"_Stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid," _In his mind Kenshin was furiously banging his head against the walls.

"_Good job Rurouni, now we both get to die! " _The voice was showing images of throttling him.

"_And that's very productive! Help me think of a way out of this!" _Kenshin hissed. He felt the figurative light bulb go off in his counter parts mind.

"_Saitou had you like this once before, how did you get out of it last time?" _Kenshin's eyes widened

"_The sheath!" _Using his other wrist he jammed the sheath down, making the back fly into an unsuspecting Kaito's jaw.

Kaito growled recovering quicker than Kenshin expected, and using the pale, bone dagger tied around his neck, he stabbed Kenshin again, through the side.

"Ahhhhhhhhh!" He screamed out in pain, flinging the dagger away, as he kicked Kaito back. The weirdest feeling began to overtake him and as he looked down, he noticed his hands were glowing with a pale white sheen, the ground was glowing too. Was it just him, or was he sinking?

He heard Sano's scream, but it was too late, he was already falling.

* * *

The first thing he noticed was the pain.

"_Wow, you really know how to handle a situation." _The voice remarked, exasperatedly.

"_S-s-shut up." _The pain made itdifficult to even think, let alone, assemble some kind of intelligent response.

He was aware of the people around him, but couldn't seem to grasp the words they were saying, they all were flying above his head. He cracked one of his eyes open, and thought he saw a bunch of children crowded around him, but children usually didn't have beards. The old guy was looked like he was wearing sheets. Maybe he had most too much blood.

"_Oh gee, ya think?" _The voice rang sarcastically, unable to feel the physical pain.

"W-where?" He managed to rasp out. They didn't seem to understand, the old man (who, to his inner embarrassment, realized was holding him like a child) tried speaking to him. He frowned, eyebrows furrowing.

"I don't understand . . ." A sharp jab of pain ripped through his body and he fruitlessly clutched at his still bleeding side.

"Ouch!"

One of the short ones spoke again, and the old man carefully pried his hand away from his side.

They began chattering again, but he felt his eyelids beginning to close, despite his best effort, and fell into blissful unconsciousness.

And he dreamt of death.

* * *

The harsh glare of the sun is what rescued Kenshin from his nightmares. He sat up with a start, and he reached panicedly towards the belt of his pant for his sword, only to realize, not only was his sword not there, but he also was not wearing any pants. His underwear was still there thankfully.

He squeaked a little embarrassedly at this realization, but that was a bad move, as the wound in his side didn't like the sharp intake of air. He gasped in pain and doubled over, clutching his stomach.

"_Deep breathing Rurouni, c'mon do it with me, in and out, in and out. That's better, isn't it?" _The voice asked boredly. The voice, was really just a manifestation of one side of Kenshin's psyche, since there was nothing shared physically between the two, the voice was free from any pain. He was the perfect advisor during a fight, his mind was always clear, even from the haze of near-death wounds.

"_What's going on? Where am I . . . . and where are my pants?" _He wondered to himself, after he got his breath under control. He looked around the room; it was very homey, with warm brown colors and hard wooden floors. There were a few bookshelves shoved into a corner, books sticking out in every-which way. The characters on the spine didn't look even remotely familiar, but then again, he wasn't the most literate person around. His master didn't believe reading was a skill worth wasting time on.

A small squeak brought him to the corner of the room where he noticed one of the little children was watching him with bright blue eyes. Was it a child? Maybe it was a very short adult; (If the stubble on his chin was anything to go by) He of all people shouldn't be one to judge.

"_He was there last night, huh?" _He cleared his throat and made an attempt and communicating with the blue-eyed child/very short man.

"Umm hello. Where am I?" He threw in a smile, just for effect. Blue just stared, before saying something that sounded like a question, at least to Kenshin's ears. It was his turn to blink.

"What?" He tried again. Blue made a gesture with his hand, for him to stay there before he ran quickly out the door.

"_I feel like a dog." _He thought a little sullenly, mostly frustrated at the language barrier.

"_Oh, get over yourself, like it's any better than when you're with that Kaoru girl." _The voice sneered_, _Kenshin growled and he was pretty sure he felt the temperature drop.

"_DON'T speak about Kaoru-dono, that way!" _He seethed at himself.

"_I'll say whatever I wanna say about that bitch!" _The voice shot back with just as much vehemence.

"Don't call her that!" He shouted out loud, before freezing when he realized he was no longer alone. There were three people in the room, watching him with varying expressions from amusement to looking frightful.

"_We'll finish this later." _He promised, shoving his dark thoughts to the back of his mind. He was pretty sure he felt the voice make some rude gestures with his hands before leaving himself.

There was the tall old man he recognized from earlier, the sheets were still there. He managed to get a better look at blue, whom was, as he thought very short, (especially by comparison of the tall old man), his nice blue eyes were framed by curly wild, locks or brunette hair, that Kenshin openly admired. Brunette's were very rare in Japan, blue eyes even rarer, his thoughts flickered to Kaoru. He wondered briefly, if he might be a foreigner. Then, once again, he really wasn't one to judge such a thing. The last man, looked elderly, and the wrinkles practically shouted "Old!" but he was still short as blue. Speaking of, he noticed they shared the same blue eyes, so maybe the shortness was hereditary.

The short ones wore clothes similar to some of the western clothes he's seen, so maybe he was in the west.

Remembering they were staring at him, he scratched his head, trying to look sheepish.

"I'm sorry." He tried to show he was apologizing through his tone. The tall man seemed to grasp it as he smiled kindly in response.

The taller of the two old men pointed to himself and spoke.

"Ga-n-do-fu?" Kenshin struggled a little with the unusually wide vowels. The man nodded a little hesitatingly .

The excitable old man went next and spoke a strange sound.

"Bi—Bo?" He frowned and shook his head and spoke again, and Kenshin tried to copy the foreign enunciation, but it didn't seem quite right. This left the other looking decidedly put out.

The last and quietest of the trio touched his hand to his heart and spoke.

"Fu-Ro-Do?" He received a smile. This one was the most normal sounding, and he was slightly happy at the small comfort. The older man huffed again, making Kenshin give him a curious look.

"_Strange names" _Nonetheless he didn't sense any bad Ki, and it they had, after all patched him back up.

He smiled and tapped his chest.

"Kenshin."

* * *

Hey, so the next chapter is in fact written. I will post it in a bit. I mean this crossover is more than a little obscure so I'm not expecting a whole lot of reviews.

Uh, if you want to leave one though, it would be very appreciated.

**RE**view?


	2. It is NEVER Too Early for a Drink

Hey chicklets!

Frankly, I was expecting maybe a review. Two would be pushing it. But you proved me wrong! As such, I have to thank you!

I wrote this two years ago, and it's just been sitting and marinating on my computer because I wasn't sure it was good enough to post. Well I am very glad I decided to post it! (Mind you I was quite a bit younger, so my writing style has changed, and there may be a few mistakes here and there.)

There isn't really much to say, so here is chapter two!

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**Chapter Two: It is never too early for a drink.**

* * *

"_Kenshin," _He spoke. His voice was s lilting tenor, soft as a summer breeze. So unlike the harsh sharp tone he had used when they had first entered the room.

"_I wasn't even gone for that long. . . I didn't know he was going to get so upset," _Frodo fretted. He noticed his uncle looking at him with an expectant gaze and he realized he hadn't been paying attention. "Sorry, what were you saying, uncle?"

"I was just saying how it would probably be better for all of us if we moved this discussion into the kitchen so we could have some tea, Gandalf's gone to prepare it. And to get this boy something to eat. Gollum knows how long it's been since he ate anything!" He picked up the newly dubbed _Kenshin's_ wrist and waved it about like it was a flapping fish.

"Look at this! It' naught but skin and bone! I could snap it like a twig if I shook his hand hard enough!" Kenshin looked worried and frightened at his uncle's erratic behavior and was trying to delicately pull his wrist from his captors grasp.

"Uncle! Don't jostle him about so! He's injured!" Bilbo immediately dropped the appendage as though he'd been burned and looked down to see Kenshin's eyes watering and that he was biting his lip, no doubt to subside the whimpers of pain.

"Oh, my dear boy! I'm sorry! I suppose I do tend to get carried away at the best of times." Said boy seemed to recognize an apology when he heard one and bowed his head.

"_Daijoubu demo_ _Arigatou, Go-shinsetsu wa, kesshite wasuremasen" _ There was a tone of absolute thankfulness and forgiveness in his tone, making Bilbo's face melt into a warm smile.

Of course, he could've just insulted his honor and the honor of his mother and Bilbo would never know it. But as it is said, the road goes ever on and on . . .

"Frodo, get our guest a change of clothes. Yours should do the trick." His nephew scurried away and returned moments later with said items. Kenshin nodded in understanding before staring at the duo pointedly until they blushed and hurriedly left the room.

After about five minutes and a series of muffled thumps they were beginning to get worried

After about ten minutes, Bilbo was imagining several morbid scenarios as to what was going on in there, the least of which involved Kenshin strangling himself trying to get the shirt on.

At fifteen minutes Gandalf had reappeared, breezing past the two hobbits whom were torn between courtesy, and worry. The wizard tapped twice on the mahogany surface.

The door creaked open in response, as it failed to fully shut, and on the bed sat Kenshin, who had somehow maneuvered his arm through the new shirt and the various holes, but the pants he seemed to be having difficulty with.

He huffed with frustration, then noticing his company, flushed and uttered a decidedly unmanly squeak and leapt atop the bed, and under the covers with surprising agility for one so injured.

"He seems to be having the most curious time with the button." Gandalf stated the obvious whilst stroking his beard.

"Gee, you think? Maybe they don't use buttons much in . . . wherever he's from." Bilbo muttered before stalking across the room towards Kenshin who had dove back into the blankets. Bilbo pulled one of the spare shirts that Frodo had bought, a nice button up. He proffered it up before the boy and demonstrated several times the doing and undoing of the button, while the boy watched his hands with attentiveness. Bilbo undid the buttons before he urged it at the boy, who took it carefully from the elders' hands, like it was silk instead of cotton.

Their hands brushed only briefly, but Bilbo felt it. Sword calluses. He shot a cursory glance towards Gandalf who slightly dipped his head in acknowledgement. He knew. He gave a little motion with his hands towards Kenshin, telling Bilbo that it would be discussed later. Turning back, Bilbo was delighted to see he had done the shirt up, and that the boy had a slight smile upon his face.

"Wonderful my boy! We'll be leaving you now; I imagine it will be no difficult task!"  
Moments later Kenshin exited the guest room, looking mildly uncomfortable in his new clothes. While the shirt fit well enough, the pants were too short and rode up to his calves like capris. It was a good thing he was so skinny, or else the pants might not have fit all together.

"This way, follow me and we'll get you something to eat, and try and figure a solution to your tricky little problem," Bilbo announced tugging lightly on the boys arm, leading him to the kitchen. Kenshin sat down and observed them as they rushed about doing this and that to prepare the food. He had to admit he was curious as to what westerners ate in their day-to-day lives.

The only western food he had really tried were the cakes that he was sometimes offered in Yamagata-san's office, and he was quite partial to those. What was placed before him was very . . . . brown. There was beef, but it was a large slice of it and it glistened, coated with some kind of liquid. The vegetables were even brown looking!(He assumed they were vegetables at least . . . he didn't recognize all of them) Coated with the same stuff. After watching Bilbo demonstrate the correct use of the utensils, he tentatively stabbed a piece of the long greenish-brown stuff, and stuck it in his mouth. He chewed carefully, and swallowed. It slimed down his throat, and he couldn't stop his face from twisting sour.

Bilbo muttered something, and Gandalf just laughed.  
"It appears our food is not to his liking." He quickly placed a hand on Kenshin's head when he noticed him trying, and failing, to look like he really was enjoying it, and his eyes narrow in determination to finish it.

"We'll eat it my boy," Gandalf assured him, taking the plate away with a reassuring smile.

He looked grateful, but his stomach uttered a short roar and he blushed.

"Hmm, Frodo, be a good lad and go get that sponge cake from the cupboard. Perhaps something a little sweeter will do the trick." He nodded and left the table. Gandalf moved the plate away from Kenshin, and offered him a smile.

"I don't know a soul who doesn't like Bulba's sponge-cake."

Frodo set a slice in front of Kenshin, who cautiously took a bite. His eyes widened in recognition.

"Ca-ki!" Gandalf's smile widened at his response.

"Yes! It's sponge-cake!"

"Su-pu-n-jii-Ka-ki?"

"Yes." Gandalf nodded.

"I-Ya-su" He emulated, and began to eat the cake in haste.

"This boy has some definite mental prowess! He wakes in a strange land, and already he has put his foot forward to try and learn the language. Remarkable, really." Gandalf thought for a moment.

"As long as he is healing, I think it's best if he stays here, if that's alright with you Bilbo."

"The boys welcome to stay here as long as he needs." Bilbo smiled, and Frodo grinned as well at the thought of possibly having another friend.

"Wonderful! Then I think it would be best if whenever he is around, to point and name the miscellaneous items about the house, so he can work on his enunciation and vocabulary. Then we could move onto the writing portion, and the structuring of the sentences. . . even if it's only the two of you, just talk to him, say what you're doing the exact moment or tell him a story, I know how you love to gossip, Bilbo. Engulfing him in the language is the best way to help him learn, and with his quick learning curve, I don't think this is nearly as ominous a task as it seems." He finished by shooting the other three occupants a wink and a smile.

"Remember to explain things, as best as you can." He added and Frodo frowned.

"The way you talk, is as though you won't be here!" He cried. Gandalf smiled gently at Frodo.

"I'm sorry my lad, but there is something pressing my mind that needs my most urgent attention. . ." he stopped briefly, if he had looked at Bilbo he would have noticed his eyes narrow in suspicion, before fading to their normal countenance. " . . . Though perhaps I could spare a few months of my time to help Kenshin adjust." Frodo was overjoyed at the thought.

"I'll go and tell Sam and the rest, the good news! The children will be so excited!" He exalted as he sped out of the hobbit hole.

"We'll help you Kenshin my dear lad; that I promise."

Kenshin just looked confused.

"Oro?"

* * *

"Bag."

"Ba-gu"

A pause.

"Kaban."

"Keh-ban."

A shake of the head

"KA-ban.

"Ka-ban."

A smile

"Key"

"Kii"

A grin.

"Kagi"

"Kagi."

A jerk towards the fireplace.

"Fire."

"Fu-i-a"

"FI-ER

"F-i-a"

A genial smile.

"Kaki"

"Kaki."

An impatient tap of the foot.

"Pencil."

"Pe-n-se-ru."

A frown.

"PEN-CIL."

"PEN-Sool."

"Meh, close enough."

Met with a grin.

"En-pi-tsu.

"Enpisuu."

The crinkle of the brow.

"En-pi-TSU."

A wry smile

"That's not a sound."

"Tsu, Tsu. . . ano, rrrrrrr. . ."

"'L's' are a different story!"

The tilting of the head.

"Tsu."

Grumbles.

"I suppose if you can learn the letter 'L', I can try to here what's the difference between suu and soo."

A feverent shaking of head.

"Tsu ano to su"

The eye roll.

"Precisely my point."

A grin.

There's no winning with this kid.

Frodo watches these exchanges with amusement. It had been about three days since Kenshin had arrived, and this has become a somewhat regular occurrence; one person would go through the words with Kenshin, and the other would chronicle what was being said so they could review later and also so when it came to the writing portion he could already have the words he had learned. Today, Frodo was the one chronicling and he had to work extra fast, because his uncle had decided that he wanted to learn Kenshin's language as well, despite Gandalf's insisting that he focus on teaching Kenshin the Common Tongue first. His uncle just told Frodo that they could accomplish both at the same time.

"Enpitsu," Frodo muttered to himself as he carefully wrote it down.

"Yesu!" Kenshin said smiling at Frodo. Bilbo crossed his arms and muttered to himself, making Frodo give him a smile.

"Speak it like there is a 't' in the there. T-Su," He demonstrated slowly, and his uncle complied, receiving another nod from Kenshin.

"Good," Kenshin spoke, repeating what he had heard them say when he did it correctly. Frodo shot him a smile.

"It won't be long before he's talking circles around us!" Frodo exclaimed, Bilbo sniffed.

"And yet, he still can't pronounce my name!" Frodo rolled his eyes good-naturedly. He knew his uncle always meant well but he could get carried away sometimes. The fact that Kenshin couldn't seem to wrap his mouth around his uncle's name had become a sore-point, for whatever reason.

"You shouldn't take it personally; it seems he doesn't have 'L' in his language." Bilbo just huffed again.

"Well, I think that's about enough for today, Linda's coming by to check up on his wounds, Gandalf's just gone to fetch her. . . . such a gentleman he is," He muttered the last part.

"Oh, uncle . . ." There was a pause.

"Uncle, where do you think Kenshin came from?" Frodo asked, and Bilbo wearily rubbed his forehead.

"I haven't the foggiest my dear nephew."

"Do you think he'll be able to get back?" He looked up at his uncle. Under the gaze of those familiar blue eyes, Bilbo wanted more than ever to reassure his beloved nephew.

"Oh, of course he'll get back. When you have Gandalf and his Magiks, and two stubborn Bagginse's , I don't think there's a thing in this world you can't do."

Frodo smiled.

"Thanks Uncle."

"Any time, my boy." There was a brief silence before they heard the telltale sounds of footsteps, and the clinking of a staff upon their doorstep, and Bilbo hustled to the door to greet his guests.

"Why, good afternoon, my dear!" Bilbo greeted with a smile taking his hand in hers.

"Good Afternoon, to you as well Bilbo."

"How is the boy doing?" Gandalf asked, stepping carefully through the too small door, ducking his head to avoid the low beams.

"Quite well actually. He's with Frodo in the sitting room."

He led Linda through the room to Kenshin who was amusing himself by watching Frodo doodle in the margins of the paper he was writing on earlier.

"Ahem." He uttered, getting Frodo's attention, who quickly rose to his feet to greet the guest.

"Oh, Linda!" He spoke kindly, before he was scooped up into a hug.

"Oh, dear Frodo, how have you been? Bilbo's been treating you right, has he?"

"I've been wonderful, of course uncle's been treating me right, and you worry about the strangest things Linda." Kenshin got to his feet as well, albeit slower.

"_Konnichiwa, Sessha wa Kenshin desu." _He bowed low.

Linda stared at him for a minute, before sweeping him into a protective hug. Despite the gentle way she handled the foreign boy, the accusatory look on her face was anything but.

"He doesn't speak the Common Tongue?! And what the blast is he doing out of bed?!" She asked incredulous. Bilbo shook his head.

"We've been teaching him best we can for the past couple days . . . He's getting better at it. Like a sponge, this lad is. Umm he doesn't seem to be pained or anything. . ."

"He's probably just putting on a brave face." She unconsciously tightened her grip, as though to protect him from something. Kenshin bit his lip to muffle the gasp.

"Kenshin, This is Linda. Can you try that? Lin-da."

"Rin-da." He spoke, his words muffled by Linda's shirt. Bilbo sighed.

"Close enough." At Linda's look he elaborated.

"Apparently, in Kenshin's language, they don't have 'L' in their alphabet."

"Really?" She asked intrigued as Kenshin carefully extracted himself from her grasp.

"Yes, it's the most frustratingly curious thing," He said, his brow furrowing.

"Strange . . . well I had best get to it." She said snapping her fingers at Bilbo.

"Help me with him. I want him in the bed, on his right side." She said as she grabbed the bandages from her bag. Kenshin saw this and seemed to get what was going on and complied to Bilbo's gentle prodding, and with their assistance, he carefully removed his shirt. The bandages showed signs of pink seeping through the gauze.

She was struck again by the numerous scars that littered his lithe body, she heard Bilbo whistle lowly beside her.

"Deary me, isn't he popular. . ." He muttered. He noticed his young nephew trying to peer over Linda's shoulder. Frodo didn't need to see this.

"Um, Frodo be a good lad and boil some water for Linda."

Frodo looked curious at what was going on, but complied.

"I'll help him," Gandalf spoke, leaving Bilbo and Linda alone.

Bilbo didn't want Frodo to see the blood and scars. He shouldn't bear witness to these things, not with those shinning blue eyes. He'd known enough violence in his short life. *

"Let's get started." Linda mumbled as she began to carefully unroll the linens. The cut was fairly clean, but it was definitely deep. He was lucky it hadn't pierced anything vital. A half an inch more and he wouldn't have survived the night.

"The major cut already looks like it's begun to heal, the other are more scattered, but they are already scabbing over, just make sure he's careful not to reopen them; they're bleeders."

Bilbo nodded, making mental notes while she continued to survey.

"Some of these scars look years old . . . I do hope he's older than he looks or he got these when he was barely a child!" Bilbo looked alarmed with the thought.

"Really?"

"Yes, really. The one on his face is at least seven-teen years old from what I can tell." Kenshin gently pushed her hand away, shaking his head, when she touched his x shaped scar. She removed the offending appendage, frowning slightly.

"These are not remotely life-threatening. . . How old is he?" She asked, and Bilbo shook his head.

"We haven't gotten that far with teaching him. He doesn't look much older than sixteen or seventeen in human years; well, from the human I've seen."

She shook her head wearily at this information.

"Too young." They both nodded and they had a brief moment of silence while she finished wrapping the new linens.

"With regular changes of his bandages, plenty of rest and good food, and he'll be back on his feet in no time," She stated, checking the tenderness of the skin. Kenshin just sat their quietly, submitting to her poking and prodding.

"Well that's wonderful news!" Bilbo smiled, taking the boiling water from Gandalf who just entered the room and Linda dumped the bloody bandages into the steaming water. She smiled wryly.

"Make sure to bring him down in a few days, and I'll change them again. . . Or if he isn't up to the exertion, I'll walk up here." She started gathering up her bag as Kenshin pulled his shirt back on.

"You take care of yourself, you hear?" She asked, turning towards Kenshin.

"_On ni kimasu"_ He bowed again and smiled at her. She sighed.

"I'll take that as a yes." They met Frodo at the door. He was standing on the stoop talking to a short blonde hobbit who was watering the plants.

"Oh Good afternoon Mr. Bilbo, Mr. Gandalf, Miss Linda. How are you all today?" he asked, and then he blinked when he noticed the red-haired addition.

"This must be the one Mr. Frodo was tellin' me all about. Nice to meet you Kenshin, I'm Samwise Gamgee, but you can call me 'Sam.'"

" Nai-su to mi-chyu Sa-mu" He spoke uncertainly. Frodo gave him an encouraging smile.

"Good." Frodo turned to Samwise who was giving him a curious glance.

"He's only been learning the language for a couple days; he's already coming along quite nicely." Samwise's eyes widened at this, but Linda cut off his next question.

"Yes this is all very well, but I have a family to go prepare dinner for. You'll excuse me." She quirked her lips and continued.

"Not to mention the people just waiting to ambush me, wanting to hear about the mysterious visitor from the sky," She winked, and Bilbo looked beyond his garden gate and noticed several hobbits trying/failing to look nonchalant while passing by the house several times, trying to catch a glimpse of Kenshin.

"Bloody leeches." He muttered, mulling over the benefits of going over there and giving them a piece of his mind.

"I'll see you all in a couple days, goodbye everyone." She was out of the gate before Bilbo could blink.

"Comes and goes as she pleases," Bilbo huffed. Frodo just smiled.

Turning his attention on the blonde hobbit, Bilbo's smile once more took residence on his face.

"How are you dear Samwise?" Bilbo asked thumping his on the back.

"I'm doin' well sir, well as well as I can with all my hyacinths wilting in the heat," Sam shot the flowers a gaze.

"Gaffer not giving you too much trouble, I hope."

"No sir, not at all sir. Everything's nice an' quiet. . . . well, most of the time anyhow," He punctuated the statement with a smile.

"Yes, yes, that's all very well." Bilbo said, eager to get back inside the house and away from the prying eyes beyond the fence.

"Won't you come in? Have something to cool yourself off? I think we might have some iced tea," Frodo invited.

"Oh, Mr. Frodo I couldn't! The shrubs still need trimin' an' don't get me started about them Marygold's!"

"Let's have none of that, my boy. Come in and have a whisky," Bilbo decided.

"Uncle! It's barely one-o'clock! At least wait for supper to start pouring the alcohol!"

"Nonsense! It's never too early to take a load off, come and I'll pour you a glass as well." Bilbo urged; there was no changing the old hobbits mind once he'd made it up. Sam relented and followed the elder inside.

"Alright, but only one! I still have a mess of chores that need doin'!"

"Yes, yes of course." Bilbo smiled impishly, rubbing his hands together.

Approximately an hour and a half later, the house was filled with drunken rancorous laughter.

" . . . and the milkman asks, 'did you want your milk pasteurized?' to which the maiden assures him,

'I'm going to be bathing in it, so I don't need it _past my eyes_, just past my tits!" Bilbo barely muscled through the joke he was laughing so hard. Gandalf sat in the corner, a ring of smoke floating above his head. Every once and a while he would chortling in mirth, his ever watchful eyes twinkling. Kenshin was watching the trio of red-faced Hobbits with something between amusement and fear, when Sam came tumbling over whilst in the background Bilbo was trying to conduct a canon of "The Old Walking Song" with Frodo, who was singing a very off pitch falsetto part.

"Look Kenshyen," Sam slurred as he approached and Kenshin warily stepped away.

"You sheem like an oki guy, but I jush dunn trusht people who fall from the shky! Shrange shtar peoplesh an' all." He swung his arm companionably around Kenshin's shoulder, who would really prefer to be somewhere else at this point.

"But Mishter Frodo trushts you so Imma givin' you the benefits of the doubtfulsh, so we can be pal'sh."

"Oro?"

He got a sudden glazed look in his eye.

"I alwaysh wanted to have ginger kidsh . . ." He tapered off and Kenshin could have sworn he fell asleep for a brief moment.

"It looks like they started without us, Pip!"

"Here we are slaving away! Delivering packages and we find you three drinking away the day!"

"Without us!" Merry put in, doing a good impression of being cross.

Sam jolted awake, and with renewed energy, greeted the new arrivals.

"Merry, Pippin! How are's you guysh? I was just telling Mishter Kenshin that I love gingeroot . . . Did you bring back a shouveniur from you adventures with the elvesh?" The pair laughed.

"I want to shee the Elvesh!" He raved

"You my friend, are off your knocker, drunk!" Pippin announced merrily, and Sam pulled on a sullen look, like a child being told they were silly.

"I amsh'not!" He riled  
"Jus' ask Kenshin, or Mishter Frodo! . . . Oh wait . . . Kenshin don't shpeak real good, so maybe jusht the Bagginshes' ."

"You must be Kenshin. I'm Merry. Nice ta finally meet cha!" He announced smiling proffering up a hand to shake.

"Goood Af-ter-noon. My. Name. is. Pip-pin." Pippin spoke slowly, like one might to a particularly stupid child.

"Pippin." Merry hissed. "That's rude!" Kenshin just smiled.

"Konnichiwa, ai, amu, Kenshin. Nisu to meetchu." He spoke haltingly and punctuated it with a polite bow. Merry, was caught off guard and immediately tried to do the same, forcing Pippin down with him. Pippin who was amusing himself with his three drunken friends, lashed out in surprise, causing Merry to lose his balance and reflexively reach out for something to stop his fall, only to meet the front of Pippins shirt. The effect causing both of them to land in a heap with an "Oomph!".

The result would not be considered "graceful" by any stretch of the imagination.

The three Hobbits immediately stopped their singing and began laughing at the sight of their two friends' tumble.

"Come my lads! We could use another pair of voices!" Bilbo announced grandly with a glazed look in him eyes, while Frodo and Sam tried to help the pair up without taking a tumble themselves.

"Hey, you wouldn' happen to have any of the old Toby on hand would ya?" Pippin queried, once he regained his bearings. The only time one could part the old Hobbit from his beloved (and heavily protected) tobacco supply was when he was drunk.

"O' course m' lad! Who do you think yer talkin' to?" Bilbo declared, bustling out of the room, to return moments later with said plant.

"Oh my, that's a beauty." Merry whistled lowly.

"It's the real deal Merry! Oooh, I want to hold it. . . " Pippin spoke with awe in his tone.

The room was swiftly filled with a thick smoke, that Kenshin couldn't help wrinkling his nose at. He left the house swiftly, just as another round of singing began. He shook his head wryly. They certainly were an . . . interesting folk.

He left the road and headed for the woods, where he thought he would have a better chance of avoiding contact with people. He hated not being able to communicate with people.

He ended up in front of a vast oak tree, so large he couldn't wrap his arms around it. He slumped against the bark, his eyes drifting lazily about; His thoughts just drifting around.

"_Maybe everyone here is just short like that . . . except Gandalf-san." _He thought to himself. He was amused by the thought that over here, tall people stuck out, unlike home where his height was the constant source of jabs; good-natured and otherwise.

"_It's oddly refreshing being around people the same height; I never have to look up at anyone."_

" _. . . It's like a society of midgets. You fit right in." _The voice supplied.

"_WE fit right in." _Kenshin corrected before smiling and continuing.

"_Actually, now that I think about it, you're shorter than I am." _

"_No I'm not. I'm just your conscience; I don't have a physical form. . . . manifestation thingy."_

"_Perish the thought of you as my conscience. If anything it's the other way around, except I'm the conscience for the voice in my head."_

"_I'm sure that's a big hit with the ladies." _Kenshin rolled his eyes. There were a few moments of silence.

"_It's very peaceful here." _Kenshin commented quietly. The voice snorted.

"_Che, that's just another way of saying its freakin' boring around here!" _

"_If excitement is people always trying to kill me, you seriously need to find a better place to get your kicks. . ." _Kenshin trailed off. The voice just glared at him.

"_What do you think about this?" _Kenshin asked after a few minutes of silence

"_What do I think of what?" _The voice asked, picking at its figurative fingernails.

"_The whole situation. . . Being here, how I should get back, the people, the food. Everything." _There was a moment of silence and Kenshin was mildly surprised to see that the voice was taking this seriously.

" _. . . Well, for starters, I think it's safe to say that we did not land in the West." _ Kenshin winced. He figured that was the case, but he still hoped in the back of his mind that home was just a boat ride away.

"_Maybe this is some kind of "parallel world" that those nerds are always talkin' about." _The voice used the little air quotations, showing how little he invested in that theory.

"_Any other theories?" _Kenshin asked

"_Not really . . ._ "

"_Then the parallel worlds one is our best bet so far."_

" _. . . Of course you could have died and this is actually Hell or Purgatory or some shit like that."_

"_Gee . . . That sounds nice." _Kenshin shook the figurative dust off his ill-used sarcasm. With the voice the only one he capable with communicating with, sarcasm was his best weapon for keeping his sanity.

"_No problem. I also agree with your idea to keep our past-"_

"_Obviously!"_

"_- and our status as samurai, a secret." _Suddenly, the voice rubbed his hands together.

"_Think about it, absolutely no one knows our past . . . the possibilities are endless!"_

"_Yeah! We can use our now pristine reputation to do good-deeds throughout the land, and spread the values of friendship!" _ Kenshin said with exaggerated pep.

"_. . ." _The voice began to bang itself against the walls and Kenshin laughed, but he stopped short, freezing on the spot.

"_What is it?" _The voice asked, sensing the nervous energy in its host.

"_Well . . . keeping our Samurai status a secret shouldn't be a problem . . . I haven't seen the Sakbatou for a while."_

"_How long is a while" _The voice asked, digging though the memories he'd slept through.

There were a few moments of precious silence.

"_Haven't seen it for a while!? Oh really! Cause from the looks of it, it seems like you flat out lost that holy freakin' sword and the only weapon we had!" _The voice hissed, and Kenshin had the good grace to look sheepish.

"_Ooops?"_

"_You're goddamn right "Oops!" What the hell is wrong with you! It could be sitting in some bush somewhere. Or maybe some idiot farmer found it and is using it to hack at trees!" _They both shivered at the thought of their beloved instrument being so mishandled.

"_You're right, I'm sorry. I'll go look for it as soon as I can without arousing suspicion." _The voice huffed at him, but agreed that it was probably for the best.

"_Now that I think about it, I haven't seen a single weapon since we arrived." _Kenshin mentioned thoughtfully. The voice just snorted.

"_Does it look like these people get into many fights?" _ The voice said rhetorically. Kenshin opened his mouth to reply.

"_Besides bar-fights."_

Kenshin promptly closed it.

"_They're just stupid farmers, happy to drink and smoke the night, or rather, midday away. . ." _Kenshin sweat dropped.

"_So far everyone you've met seems harmless enough."_ The voice admitted. Kenshin idly wrote out the names on the ground with a twig he found, labeling the list "My captors" at the voices insistence. He etched the characters slowly is his rough penmanship.

"_There's Bilbo, Gandalf, Frodo, Sam and now Merry and Pippin. . . Oh and Linda, who was nice enough to patch us up." _The voice nodded its figurative head, but frowned.

"_That's all well and good, but there's something that doesn't sit right with me. I can't help feeling that we're missing something important with this Gandalf character."_

Kenshin frowned. He rather liked the grandfatherly old man. He always seemed to know exactly what Kenshin needed, or meant, when he was having a hard time articulating.

"_Important how?" _

"_Like how all everyone seems to listen to whatever he says . . . It's more than just being polite to you elders, it's like they trust him with something beyond respect," _The voice tried to convey. Although they were technically sharing the same mind, they didn't always have the easiest time explaining things to each other. This was because each one could access a different part of the mind simultaneously. While it was perfect when they got into a serious fight, it also meant it took a bit of time to explain things.

"Kenshin! My dear boy, how are you!" Someone called, startling Kenshin out of his musings.

"_Speak of the devil and he shall appear . . ." _The voice tapered off. Correctly so. Gandalf came up the hill smile on his face.

"I was wondering where you'd gone off to. None of the Hobbits were any help if you can imagine that." Kenshin stared back blankly.

"_He does remember that I can't understand him right?" _The voice chuckled. Gandalf arrived at the top and his eyes flickered to the list of possible suspects Kenshin wrote up. His eyes widened exponentially.

"Kenshin . . ." Said shot him a cursory glance. The old man hesitated before using his stick to write something in the ground, just next to Kenshin's writings.

"**Can you read this?" **It read.

Kenshin blinked.

There in the dirt, the old man had carved the words in neat hiragana. He stared at the old man for a moment, before carving a response.

"**Yes. How can you read this?" **He asked raising an eyebrow suspiciously. The old man smiled.

"**It's an ancient form of elvish writing systems . . .Few know it, and even less can speak it. Only certain elves have dedicated themselves to the task to preserve its history." ** Kenshin mulled this over and gave pause, before carefully carving;

"**Are we in America? Or maybe England? Any of the Western countries?" **Gandalf shook his head, a puzzled expression on his face, as Kenshin heaved a sigh.

"_It thought not." _The voice acknowledged wearily.

"**Is this your original language?" **Gandalf asked.

"**Yes, at home it's called**_** Nihongo**_**." **He answered.

"**Here it's called "Lam-i-mitsui**_**. Which roughly translates to '**__**The Language of the Wandering.**__**"**_

Kenshin smiled grimly.

"**Befitting . . ." **

"**I do not think that you are from this world, . . . are you?" **Gandalf asked and Kenshin shook his head, and the old man laughed silently.

"**I didn't think so. Do you have any idea to how you got here?"**

Kenshin cast his thoughts out for answers, but everything seemed blurry and unclear.

"**There was this man . . . I . . ."**

"_Slept with his sister." _The voice supplied, in lieu of the real answer, that he had killed a mans brother in cool blood and possibly killed the other man as well. Kenshin felt sick.

" **. . . wronged his family, betraying their trust . . .he attacked me." **Gandalf's eyes flashed at this.

"_It was the knife." _The voice filled in the blank

"**There was this knife . . . it glowed like the moon. Something wasn't right about it." **He shook his head, trying to come up with the right words to explain the air of peculiarity that surrounded the object.

"**Perhaps it's possesses some magical properties."**

"**Magic?"** Kenshin raised an eyebrow skeptically.

"**They do not have magic in your world?" **Gandalf asked amusedly.

"**Some people think so . . . but a lot of those people are believed to be crazy" **Gandalf laughed straight out.

"**In Middle earth, believing there is no magic is crazier still." **

Kenshin shrugged his shoulder. He was never one to dismiss the "impossible" when he'd been proved wrong. If a man can come back after being burned alive, then he had no room for skepticism.

"_I think the old man's lost it," _The voice announced, but Kenshin quickly shushed him.

"**I know this must be a difficult thing for you, landing in a strange land where no one speaks your language, but we have a means of communication, if I can help you in any way, just ask." **Kenshin smiled.

"**So, in "Middle-Earth" are all the people short like Frodo and Bilbo? Are you just an exception? Is this the only country, and do the people all look the same?" **Gandalf chuckled at his curiosity. Quite reminiscent of Frodo and his queries of the outside world.

"**One at a time, my lad." **Kenshin flushed at that. The elder took his time to fill his pipe and light it with all the care and precision of a surgeon. Kenshin waited patiently, but his nose crinkled at the sight of the pipe.

"**In Middle-Earth, there are different Races of people."**

" **The elves, the dwarves, the humans and the hobbits. . . Now the elves are a race of immortal people of the wood, their hobbies include singing, archery, battles of wits, wine casting, study's of all sorts, and I have found that a great many enjoy a good bubble bath from time to time. . . ."**

The hazy sun gradually traversed down the great blue until tints of pink permeated the evening. The old man, who Kenshin now understood to be a sorcerer of some kind, had scratched years of history and ways of this world upon the soft earth in tiny kanji and hiragana. Lines and lines of it be-told the sheer mass of what they were discussing. Kenshin himself wondered if he was really grasping the weight of what was being said.

At first he was overwhelmed by the idea of how people here could be so different. But he was reminded of a time when he felt similarly about the tales he heard about the west. Races here were the equivalence of ethnicities in his mind. The comparison brought a level of comfort from the slight familiarity. Even the fact that they had a history of conflicts was comforting.

"_It's the same every place,"_The voice sniffed, slightly disdainfully.

Through a brief series of comparisons, they had settled on the idea he was either from another world, or farther across the sea than Gandalf cared to imagine. Kenshin was somewhat resigned to the fact he was more sure it was the former

"_I am so far away. . ."_Kenshin thought, and the voice was at a loss. Optimism wasn't the voice's strong point; usually the sarcastic pessimist was his job, to keep the natural optimism and naïveté of his companion in check.

"**Everything will be alright, my lad. You came here, and I am certain there is some way to send you back,"** Gandalf wrote, reading the despondent look on Kenshin's face. He gave Kenshin a reassuring smile, willing him to believe.

The voice was, for the first time, grateful for the presence of the old man. For being able to say what he was incapable of . . . The voice retreated deeper into the mind. Kenshin frowned at the sudden disappearance. Gandalf continued, unaware of the inner happenings of the young man across of him.

"**For now, it would be safe to assume you were sent here for some purpose. Whether to help carry the groceries or to aid someone in need, everything has a purpose even if it seems menial." **His blue eyes twinkled, and his face took a somewhat mysterious quality.

"**You are correct, I will try to keep my thoughts on the present." **He shot a nervous half-smile at the elder.

"**Now! Think of what this mean! We now have a stable way of communication! This will make learning our language so much easier. That is something worth celebrating." **Kenshin's mouth slowly spread into a true smile.

"**. . . You're right, This is remarkable!" **

"**Indeed. Now I think we should inform our companions of our most exciting discovery!"**

A glance back at the hobbit-hole below told of a party that was still going strong. They could faintly hear traces of drunken singing. Kenshin sweat-dropped and Gandalf raised an eyebrow.

"**Perhaps we should wait until they are a little less inebriated."** Kenshin nodded in agreement, memories flashing through his mind, or his friends when they got drunk. He was glad none of them were as violent as Kaoru was when she got drunk. The night, he met Tomoe she was drunk, wasn't she . . . He shook himself back to the present, and realized that Gandalf had scrawled something on the dirt and was watching him for some kind of response.

"**You should be prepared; as soon as Frodo realizes you aren't from this world, the floodgates will open and questions will flow like a great river!" **Kenshin had already observed some curious tendencies the youngest had, and found them amusing.

"Well, come along, my lad, we have places to go, and drunken hobbits to tend to!" He began to trudge down the hill, and Kenshin, grasping the essence of what he said, trotted after him.

* * *

Yep. I love the voice! I con promise you he will continue to be a central character in the story . . .

So Basically, the idea is that Gandalf knows the writing system, but he doesn;t know how to speak it. Okay? Good.

Also, the "Violence" that Frodo has seen is his parents' drowning in a river. And that is enough violence for a hobbit. If it were any other hobbit.

REview?


	3. Numbers MAN! Meh, who needs 'em

Wow! I am amazed at the response I've gotten! Thank you all so much for reading and favoriting this, but especially those of you who reviewed!

I hope you enjoy this chapter as much as the next one!

I am filling several people's requests this chapter in regard to Kenshin's age, just to prove how thankful I am you all reviewed!

I CHOSE TO MAKE HIM THIRTY! because Rurouni Kenshin started and Kenshin was 28. I feel that about two years passed by . . . . not that it matters because Kenshin still looks the same . . . If I had a choice, he could always look the same! (OVA where he gets old . . . rawr.)

I do in fact plan on deviating from the canon, or at least not make it quite so cliche.

Anonymous review who can't log in. You rock.

I OWN NOTHING!

* * *

**Chapter Three:**

**Numbers MAN! . . . Meh, who needs 'em.**

* * *

It had been about two months since Kenshin's unorthodox arrival, and, much to the amazement and delight to the hobbits, he was beginning to grasp the basics of the language. He could form small sentences, and his accent on some of the words was non-existent. The wounds had almost completely healed, and he was using his unrestricted mobility to familiarize himself with his surroundings.

Mostly, he searched for his Sakbatou, which had yet to resurface as far as he knew. He was terrified someone had found it and taken it for their own, and kept an eye, and ear open for any notice or mention of his beloved sword. It was that intense fear coupled with an instinct so buried within himself that made him so mortified of losing his sword. Here he was, stranded in an unknown land, away from all he knew without a weapon. He would practically hear his master berating him.

Then again, that may have just been the voice.

The voice was incessant, always insisting whenever there was a free moment that they search again. Kenshin obliged, if only to quiet the voice. At least once a day, often times more, he would take seemingly leisurely constitutionals through the woods. Frequently, Frodo took it upon himself to join him. The forrest was a large one, dense with trees but straight in the middle, after walking for a good forty minutes or so, one could stumble across a clearing.

The airy space, surrounded by nature had become the pairs new space for lessons, as the house was regularly filled with chatter and the business of Bilbo's highly unusual life, which was certainly not quiet or peaceful by any stretch of the imagination.

Kenshin found Frodo's eagerness to learn unquenchable, and the two, with their stuttering halting understanding of each other's languages would attempt to explain things to the other person. This was Kenshin's favorite way of passing the time here.

He knew the woods surrounding where he had fell so well, that he felt he could draw a map of it with his eyes closed. The familiarity he was beginning to feel with this new land both pleased him and disturbed him. He was beginning to get used to waking up here, which made him feel more and more panicked about getting home. He did not want to get used to being here. It took immense concentration and self-control to constantly remind himself that there wasn't anything he could do about it right this moment, so it would be better to just relax.

The good part of that though was that the more time he spent here had helped him to grasp the characters of the people around him, and they stopped being the strangers from this strange new world, and started to be people he felt minutely comfortable around. In fact he would call them his friends, though the voice disagreed gruffly at the idea.

Merry and Pippin were never-ending fountains of amusement. From their stories, which Kenshin was just beginning to understand, or their many antics which kept his mind feeling light and amiable, especially when he was lost in his thoughts about home.

Though his visits with Linda had, for the most part, stopped as he healed, he made it a point to visit her hole on the way to town. She was always delighted to see him, and urged him and who-ever he as with to come in and eat whatever confection she was whipping up. (Much to Kenshin's delight.) Linda was absolutely thrilled when she saw how good he was with her kids, and tried to persuade him to babysit sometime, to which he tried to politely decline. The thoughts of how much she had helped him and still showed him much kindness and acceptance quickly changed his mind and he took a few hours every other day or so to watch them while she went to town to have a little fun.

Within town he was becoming a regular. It was weird to him, that the hobbits seemed more or less to accept him as part of their tightly knit community. Then again, from what he had observed of their species it seemed to be a part of their natures. Of course he was still gossiped about heavily, despite the two months he'd been there. The more conservative parents warned their children away from him. Fat lot of good that did. Linda's children adored him, and when he would take them out to play, all the other children joined in. Apparently they had never played many of the games Kenshin knew and they were delighted when he taught them a new one. Kenshin was ridiculously popular around the children, something neither he nor their parents quite understood.

Whenever Kenshin was feeling confused or overwhelmed by this radically different world, Gandalf was a constant comforting presence. He was always hanging off to the side, watching things with those unwavering blue eyes of his. Many times in the evening, when Kenshin couldn't seem to quiet his thoughts, he would walk across the hall to the elder's room, whom was always the last to sleep. The old man would peer at him over whatever book he was reading, and invite Kenshin to sit and listen to him read. If not for the story itself, but for the comforting presence and soothing sound of his voice, it eased Kenshin's restless mind.

Bilbo, was an unstoppable force, and a whirlwind of energy. Something always seemed to be going on with the hobbit. Though, Kenshin observed that perhaps, his restlessness wasn't as normal as it always was. If Frodo's worried brow, and Gandalf's curious glances were anything to go by.

Sam was, at first, more than a little stiff in the presence of Kenshin, but he had eased up after the first week and had gone about teaching him the names of all the plants he tended to. Sam was a natural with the earth and Kenshin was internally amused that behind his slightly bristly exterior, he was naught more than a simple gardener who wanted to care for his greenery.

Kenshin soaked up anything, and everything they threw at him. He was nowhere near close to being entirely competent, but things were becoming clearer every day. Frodo had picked up immediately on the simple system of writing Gandalf taught to the hobbits in case there was an emergency and they needed to communicate with Kenshin immediately.

The old man looked positively fascinated when Kenshin went through the characters showing the elder how they were pronounced.

The grammar points seemed to be what was most difficult for everyone to grasp, but once they learned the basic rules they generally had the gist of things. Amusingly enough, Bilbo seemed to be struggling most with the unusual characters, a point which seemed to fluster and annoy him in equal measure. Frodo's natural gift with it seemed to irk him even further.

Frodo was his favorite person to actively be around. The younger hobbit had made great strides to meet him halfway through the exchanging of languages, and the younger seemed to possess patience beyond his years when it came to Kenshin. They often walked though the town and explored the forests together, simply enjoying each other's company. They would sit on the forest floor and Frodo would ask every kind of question he could imagine about Kenshin's home world. What the food was like, how the weather was, did they have alcohol, what were the people like, etc. Etc.

Kenshin was glad for the exercise; being this inactive for so long left him feeling disconcerted. The voice was pressing on him to work out more when he had extra time on his hand. (This was often, as not much needed doing, except to go shopping on occasion, and to learn more of the common tongue.) He complied, but only because the voice was disturbed by an aura it sensed, something unnatural. Something twistedly out of the ordinary, in this otherwise peaceful place.

Kenshin began to notice an undercurrent as well, and was certain it was coming from Bilbo. There were moments where his eyes seemed to slant with the intent of something darker than norm. Unsure how to confront the hobbit, he was resigned to let Bilbo be. The voice agreed supported this with fever. The voice didn't want to be wrapped up in something so unnerving, especially when it was none of their business.

At the current time, Kenshin was sitting idly on a rock in Sam's immaculate garden listening to the hobbit talk about his beloved plants.

"The Chrysanthemum's can be temperamental if you don't place 'em in loose enough soil, but that also means you have to be more careful with the amount of water you give 'em," Sam said as Kenshin nodded and repeated the unusual word to himself.

"Ku-ri-san-de-mum."

Sam shook his head.

"The, not de"

Kenshin tried again, but it was hard to get used to using sounds that weren't even in his language, while he was getting used to the 'r's bit by bit, the 'th' sound was still a struggle.

"Right there we have the tulips, the baby's breath and the sunflowers. The sunflowers are Mr. Bilbo's favorite flower so I have to plant them right by the window so he can see them when he is working on his book."

Kenshin nodded, a few words still flying over his head at the pace Sam was talking.

"They sit over by the iris's which are wilting from the heat, I have to remember to water them more, . . ." Sam's voice faded from his notice as he stared at the wilting flowers. The petals drooped towards the earth and he couldn't help but think of her bleeding form, limp and wilting as the flowers as she lay dying in his arms. Tomoe . . .

"_Tomoe . . ." _The voice yearned.

"Mr. Kenshin, are you okay?" Sam asked, realizing his audience had stopped paying attention to him. Kenshin rose suddenly, startling the gardener.

"Yes I am fine. I dinku I will take a rest dough." Sam nodded a little uncertain at his behavior but calmed as Kenshin shot him a rare smile and thanked him before heading inside.

When Kenshin reached his temporary room, he flopped himself on the bed, not even caring to remove his shoes. (Which he almost always insistently took off before entering.)

"_Why are all these thoughts coming back to haunt me now? I thought I had dealt with my past. . ." _He thought despondently thinking about the tragedy of Enishii.

"_Probably because you can never escape your past,**"** _The voice suggested idly. Kenshin rolled his eyes.

"_I understand that. I would never try to forget what atrocities I have committed with these hands." _He stared at his hands, remembering the red that he thought would never come off.

He ignored the voice as it started saying in a sing-songy way, how melodramatic he was being.

"_Look, all I'm trying to say, is that I usually have better control than this." _The voice stopped it's taunts to consider this.

"_You may be right. But what can we do about it, unless there is some direct trigger for it, there is no way to stop it, or prevent this stuff.**"**_

"_I think I may try to start meditating again, If only to quell the feelings of unease I get from_ Bilbo,"Kenshin pondered, and_ t_he voice nodded a little carelessly. Finding he had time on his hands, (and with no desire to go out in the garden again with the wilting irises,) Kenshin decided to start right then and now.

He shut his eyes and closed his ears from the sounds of the house and its occupants, he focused on the feeling of air as he inhaled and exhaled, and he began to sort through the occurrences of his days here.

Still no sign of the Sakbatou.

On the positive side, there had been no signs of any form of violence or war in this world. It was a seemingly peaceful place. Despite how much Kenshin was overjoyed by this, he felt tense and on edge.

It was just too good to be true.

The very fact he felt that way made him feel bitter.

He was finally in a place where there seemingly was no conflict and his heart and mind could not accept that fact. Despite how desperately he wished they could.

In truth, he was in such conflict with himself, he had yet to directly ask Gandalf as to weather there was war here.

He didn't want to know.

He was shaken out of his angsty thoughts by the slightly impatient sounding tapping on the door. He rose to his feet and cracked it a few inches to see whom it was. Innocuous blue eyes stared back.

"Good evening Kenshin. I was wondering if you wanted to go for a stroll with me."

Kenshin stared for a moment while his lethargic brain computed what was being said.

"Yesu. That sounds nice," He agreed and Frodo smiled and they walked out of the house.

Kenshin blinked as he realized what Frodo had said earlier, and stared at the darkened evening. He had lost track of time, the people around had already begun to light their lamps. It was not pitch dark yet, more like a muted blue of a summer evening, comfortably warm.

The silence was a comfortable one, each of them just enjoying the nature surrounding them, along with the peaceful air that came only at night to the shire, once all the busy and energetic people returned home and all activities put on hold until the coming morn. This of course, excluding the bar, which only grew more rancorous as the night wore on.

It was as they were passing by said bar, that they heard familiar voices singing. Exchanging a look they silently and unanimously entered the building.

Standing and swaying atop the bar much to the annoyance and amusement of the other patrons, were Merry and Pippin, each with a mug in their hand, and folky tunes on their lips.

Kenshin failed to understand most of what they were saying, as their beat was a lively one, but he caught a few words which left him more confused than before.

"_Why would they be singing about a green dragon?**"**_ The voice asked, and Kenshin shrugged inwardly.

Being in such a cloistered and full room made him uneasy. It sent warning bells off on his instincts. He was relieved when Sam called to them from a table neatly settled in the corner. With his back against the wall, he was able unwind a slight bit.

There was an elderly man, whom Kenshin assumed was related to Sam based on the similar features. They were having a conversation that was too quick for Kenshin to follow, so he contented himself to watching the duo atop the bar. They seemed to be thoroughly enjoying themselves to say the least, many of the other people there too, sans those whose drinks were the unfortunate victims of the pairs impromptu dancing.

Nest to him, Frodo lightly tapped his shoulde to bring his attention back to him.

"Kenshin,du yuuuan tone tyuu?"

He blinked at Frodo, before using perhaps the most important word he'd learned so far.

"Slower, pleasu."

Apologizing, Frodo repeated, this time taking time to enunciate and clearly say his words.

"Kenshin, do you want one too?" He asked, lifting Gaffers mug so he could see.

Ah, he was asking if Kenshin wanted some of their alcohol. Though Kenshin did enjoy good sake now and again, his experience with the food and drink of this land had taught him to be wary. Gently he picked up the mug, watching the brow liquid swirl around.

"_Why is everything edible here brown? What is with their obsession with the color?**"**_ The voice asked rolling its figurative eyes.

Kenshin silently agreed with the voice, but he leaned forward a little and sniffed it delicately. The bitterness immediately rose and assaulted his nose, and it wrinkled in distaste. Frodo and Sam laughed at his expression. Composing himself, he answered with tact, despite the others' smirks.

"Ah, I do noto think so, dank you tho-"

"Of course he'll have one! Samwise! Go and get him a mug, what kind of age do we live in with this kind of hospitality," the old Gaffer said, urging Sam with his crotchety behavior, whom quickly scrambled out of his seat to go grab him an ale. Apparently he had missed his reaction to the smell.

"Againe, no dank y-"

"You're welcome my lad," He said heartily slapping Kenshin on the back on the back. Totally invading his boundaries, making him feel very uncomfortable.

He was rescued from the discomfort by Merry and Pippin who had finished their song and swung down from the bar to greet their friends.

"Frodo, Kenshin! How are you this fine evening?" Merry asked boisterously, arm still around Pippins shoulder, the alcohol in his glass sloshing around.

"I amu good. Dank you. How about you?" He asked, and Pippin let out a low whistle.

"You understood that? You're getting better all the time!" he exalted. Kenshin slightly bowed his head as a sign of modest thanks.

"He really has picked it up, it's quite amazing!" Frodo complimented.

"Soon he'll be even better than you, Pip," Merry teased, enjoying poking fun at his friend's deep accent.

"Hey!" Pippin complained offended, making the others chuckle.

"I liked your songo about de gureen dooragon," Kenshin said with a smile, and the two hobbits bowed with fake modesty.

"We do the best we can to contribute to society in our own way," Merry replied with false bravado.

It was then that Sam elbowed his way back to the table from the dense bar, three ceramic mugs in his hand, golden liquid spilling over the rims as he moved. Setting them down with a loud clank, he addressed Frodo and Kenshin.

"Three ales, one for each of u- Hey!"

Pippin plucked one mug cleanly from Sam's hand, making the blond rear on him.

"You've had enough! Give it back you little imp!" He demanded, as Pippin quickly moved out of his reach, using his smaller size to elude the gardener, laughing all the way. The others watched the duo with mirth.

"Here you are, lad," Gaffer said, pushing one of the glasses at Kenshin. Uncertainly, Kenshin took the drink in his hand, swirling it before taking a small sip. He attempted to reign in his reaction, but some of his dislike must have eked out, because Frodo and Merry were snickering. Bitter, just like he thought. It really did make him miss sake that much more. Gaffer looked at him contemplatively.

"Do you know how old he is? I don't know much about humans, but I am pretty sure he seems young," Gaffer squinted at him some more."I mean, he is allowed to drink I'm sure," Gaffer continued.

Hobbit drinking rules were more lax than most places. They did not like their children drinking but when they entered their terrible tweens, any rules were generally thrown in the wind. This left them just a step above Dwarves drinking rules, but below humans by means of strictness.

"Gandalf said he looked about sixteen," Merry answered, noting how Kenshin looked back and forth, not following the conversation very well.

"Have you asked him yet?"

The surrounding hobbits looked at each other blankly, Pippin and Sam coming to a halt, before realizing not one of them had ever asked.

"Kenshin, how old are you?" Frodo asked slowly. Kenshin's brow furrowed, and Frodo quickly rephrased his question.

"How many years have you been alive?" He asked, and understanding slipped over his friends face, but that was followed by frustration.

The hobbits looked at him puzzled, as he gestured not so clearly with his hands, before etching a series of lines on a napkin with his nail, trying to show the others the indentations, despite the fact they did not share the same numeral system.

Realization overcame the hobbits slowly, and it was Pippin who put voice to the thought.

"Has anyone taught him his numbers yet?"

There was silence.

"I think that is a definitive answer if I ever heard one," Sam replied, as Frodo quickly went to the barkeep to beg a quill and parchment off of him.

Once back, he began to explain, using his fingers to show him what he meant, before writing the corresponding figure on the paper.

"How is it he knows about dragons, but he doesn't even know his figures!" Merry asked.

"Well he is living with Bilbo," Sam replied and understanding took root.

"He probably knows all about dragons then," Merry replied.

"And Elves," Sam put forth.

"And Dwarves," Pippin piped up.

"And Gollums," Frodo added, as he carefully watched Kenshin studying the figures.

There was another silence.

"If it wasn't for Frodo, I doubt Kenshin would have learned very much vocabulary at all," Merry said, sweat-dropping a little at the antics of the older hobbit.

"A true a statement as I've ever heard," Gaffer nodded.

"So, what number is your age?" Frodo asked.

Kenshin nodded in understanding, before circling the number, not feeling familiar enough with them to try speaking them yet.

The half-lings peered over the table, to see a neat circle around the numeral for thirty.

"What?!" That was about twice as much as Gandalf had guessed!

"There's no way! That means he's almost as old as I am!" Sam exclaimed, staring at the youthful figure before him.

"You musta taught him wrong, Frodo," Merry explained with a furrowed brow.

"I don't think I did. Perhaps he misunderstood though," Frowning slightly, Frodo went over the lesson agan, this time taking a longer time to go through all the information thoroughly, even going over the meaning of years again, before he queried again, after the red-head's age.

This time Kenshin replied verbally.

"Thirty."

The hobbits were stumped.

"Maybe he's like an elf," Sam put forward.

"Pshh, does he look like an elf to you?" Merry replied skeptically.

"What if this is just how people are where he lives," Pippin asked. The others mulled it over. It seemed possible.

"I think that Gandalf just jumped to conclusions. That man spends more time among the elves and hobbits than he does humans. Perhaps his memory isn't as sharp as it once was," Gaffer added gruffly.

The other hobbits exchanged looks. Not one was willing to question Gandalf's memory. They had lost enough money on bets with the wizard to know better.

"I certainly hope not, that would be most inconvenient."

The party was startled by the sudden appearance of the towering grey figure.

"Gandalf! When did you get here?" Frodo asked, always pleasantly surprised to see his old friend.

"Just a few moments ago. Kenshin my lad, you are much older than you appear," he said, and Kenshin seemed to grasp what he was trying to say and shrugged his shoulders as if to say,

'I get that a lot.'

Gandalf smiled mirthfully, before sudden he halted, expression blank, and eyes far-seeing. The air quickly became tense, as his face screwed into a displeased expression.

"Gandalf?" Frodo asked, waving his hands in front of the elderly man's face, which seemed to draw him out of his trance.

"Are you okay?" The blue-eyed hobbit asked concernedly, the other hobbits were shifting anxiously.

"Yes, absolutely. I just recalled that I left the tea-kettle boiling," he answered, and the hobbits all relaxed with somewhat accusing looks.

"Gah, we all thought there was something serious going on!" Merry said with a disappointed sigh.

"On the contrary, I take tea making very seriously young master Merry," Gandalf said with a humorous light in his eyes.

"Kenshin, would you like to join me? I have the feeling you may find tea more to your tastes?" Gandalf asked, gesturing to the mug of alcohal and Kenshin gladly took him up on his offer.

"Well then, I had better go and grab the kettle before it boils over, would you meet me back at the house?" Gandalf asked, and Kenshin only had time to nod before, the Wizard disappeared.

"How does he do that!?" Pippin asked in awe.

"Sold his soul," Gaffer said assuredly, and the other rolled their eyes at the stubborn and somewhat close-minded hobbit.

"I had bettor reave then," Kenshin announced, and the friends exchanged their goodbyes, before the Japanese man stepped into the night air.

The air was refreshing and the silence was welcome after being in the rowdy bar. He took his time, his sandals the only sounds in the night besides the insects which chirped, unseen in the dark. After being around such hectic friends all day, he enjoyed his time alone.

Well, alone with the voice.

_"__Don't be getting too comfortable here Rurouni,_**"** It warned, "_It will only make it that much harder to say goodbye."_

"_That's assuming we find a way to get home of course," _Kenshin replied, feeling a mixture of dismay and acceptance that he may be here for quite sometime. . . maybe even forev-

"_I refuse to accept that_**_,"_ **The voice informed him firmly.

"_You may not have much of a say in the matter," _Kenshin replied wistfully.

And the voice fell silent.

He arrived at the house, his mood considerably diminished, but if anyone could pull him out f his funk it most certainly would be Gandalf. Swinging the rounded door open, he was greeted with a fairly unusual sight of Gandalf staring intently at Bilbo, whose attentions were solely held by a thin glimmer on the floor.

He took a step into the house curiously, before he was bowled over by a whirlpool of dark swirling energy. The heavy force of it gripped his chest, and the voice was screaming at him to get out, to move, to jump, to crawl, to run, to do anything; so long as he got away from it.

Bent over, he was panting heavily, much to the surprise and concern of the two elderly men.

"Kenshin my lad, are you okay?" Bilbo asked, though his gaze hardly flitted from what Kenshin now realized was a ring. A simple gold band, lying innocently on the tile.

"Come, let us talk outside," Gandalf decided, hastily ushering Kenshin and carefully watching Bilbo.

Once outside, the trio sat at a little iron table with matching chairs. Bilbo seemed to relax much more, though his hands were trembling slightly. Gandalf pulled a rolled paper from his robes, and kindly lit it before handing it to his friend.

"Thank you," Bilbo replied unsteadily as he puffed on the tobacco, his nerves calming at the flush of toxins.

"I think I will take a short stroll in the woods to clear my head a bit," Bilbo said after a minute. Gandalf gave him a searching glance before he inclined his head in assent.

"Nani desu ka?" Kenshin asked in a panicked tone, once the hobbit had departed, his breathing still erratic. He's never felt such a strong prescence of evil before in his life, not even from Shishio or Eniishi.

Whatever it was, it was not human.

"_This is the darkness we sensed from Bilbo,**"**_ Kenshin realized.

_"Yeah, multiplied by a few hundred!"_

"English, my young friend," Gandalf reminded him gently, and the wandering samurai took a deep breath, trying to settle the blood rushing through his body.

"What wazu that?" He asked calmer, though still thoroughly unsettled.

"I cannot say for sure, but I can make a guess . . ."

Kenshin motioned for him to continue, but the elder paused.

"I find it immensely curious that you were affected as strongly as you were," Gandalf murmured. Kenshin had no idea why either.

When Gandalf had first sensed the evil of the ring in the bar, he knew immediately what Bilbo had planned. He frowned. Without solid facts this all was guess work, though Kesnhin's reaction certainly was interesting.

'If it is the ring I suspect, then it naturally searches out that which is powerful and those who have such power. Those individuals feel the pressure set by the ring more poignantly. Why would it choose Kenshin? Does it have to do with the strange sword and the callouses upon his hands, which so clearly betray his history of violence.' Gandalf's thoughts faltered for a moment.

'If that were true though, why is it I sense a peaceful soul, one with much pain, but certainly one good in spirit. Unless I have been deceived, he seems pure of heart. Then again, perhaps his darkness lies further within himself, berried deep within the depths of his soul . . .'

"Gandalf?" Kenshin queried, reminding the old wizard the boy was still waiting for an answer.

Stirring himself out of his thoughts, he pushed those theories to the side for the moment, focusing on the present. He debated a little about telling Kenshin the whole truth of his suspicions, before deciding that as the boy was travelling with Bilbo, who possibly had been under the influence of the Ring for some time, it would be wisest to share.

"I will have research it to confirm, but I suspect it to be a manifestation of power and evil," Was Gandalf's initial answer, as he pulled his pipe out, and packed the tobacco in carefully. Kenshin waited as patiently as he could for the old man to get settled.

After the first deep inhale and long exhale, he began to tell the story of the one ring and the war for middle earth. He stopped several times to elaborate on certain words that made Kenshin absolutely lost, but by the end of it Kenshin had certainly gotten the gist of it.

"_There goes any thoughts that this world is a peaceful place,_**_"_ **The voice snorted, _"From what I heard they may well be more violent than even those back home. It makes sense, they have far larger numbers in population. More canon fodder for war."_

Feeling mild frustration, he struggled to formulate the correct words to convey his thoughts correctly, so he resorted to scratching his question in the dirt in somewhat shaky hiragana. Peering on the ground, Gandalf's eyes grew soft and sad.

"This is probably the only place in middle earth that has peace. No violence, no wars, this is the last haven, but even that . . . I fear darkness shall creep once more into the world, and even the Shire will be lost."

Kenshin felt the bite of bitterness. He couldn't pretend to be surprised. His gut instinct was right all along. A world without war was impossible. And yet . . . And yet . . . .

And yet. . .

He had so wished himself to be wrong.

Seeing the lads expression, Gandalf strode forward.

"I am sorry Kenshin, but please, do not concern yourself with the violence of this world, instead focus on trying to get home," Gandalf tried to assuage his sadness. Kenshin perked up, and stared inquisitively, unhappiness momentarily forgotten, as a small light of hope entered his eyes.

"I do not know if this is for sure, but if anyone could get you home, it is the elves of Rivendale. There are some there who have studied your language, and perhaps they will have something more to offer you," The wizard explained, unsure to what was ahead for the red-haired man, but hopeful that it would be good.

"Of course, there may be nothing, and the journey might lead you down paths unseen for which you are ill-prepared. In fact you may never return to the Shire. Can you accept that a fate such as this may befall you?" Gandalf asked, intense blue eyes focused straight on what Kenshin felt was his heart. The red-haired man closed his eyes.

He thought about Kaoru and he thought about Tomoe. He thought about the wilting irises, dripping towards the ground in death.

"_We can only move forward. You know this. We could not survive in this peaceful land, even if we wanted to. It is just our disposition . . . and our fate,**"**_ The voice commented darkly before rescinding to the back of his mind.

He opened his violet eyes.

"Where is dis pulace?" He asked, determinedly.

Gandalf nodded in acceptance of his decision.

"It is a fair bit away, though Bilbo happens to heading in the same direction and has kindly agreed to be your guide,"Gandalf explained, though Kenshin sensed that there was something far more than what he had said about Bilbo's "kind act." Then again, blackmail or no, Kenshin would accept a guide gladly.

"I must warn you, if that is the ring I theorize, then Bilbo has been held captive by its powers for decades now. Very soon his body will begin to go through withdrawals. Irritability and craftiness will surface along with manipulation, and many times he will suggest to you that we ought to return to the Shire. You must not let him convince you. Placate him as best you can, and talk to him in an attempt to draw the true Bilbo from the surrounding darkness. There is a slight possibility he will attack you if the darkness catches on to what you are doing. Subjugate him as best you can. If my hypothesis is correct, after a few days, there will be a rapid onset of aging, after which he will be harmless. It is a sign that much of the darkness has been excreted. Some will remain always, but he will no longer be in the rings total control." Gandalf explained it all as clearly and thoroughly as he could. Kenshin nodded slowly, having the eerie deja-vu of being briefed for a mission or something like it.

"Ah! Perfect timing! I was just telling Kenshin how you kindly volunteered to be his guide to Rivendale,"He called to the hobbit who was just returning, looking far more relaxed and at peace.

"Yes, 'volunteered' is certainly the words for that . . ." The elderly hobbit muttered under his breath, and Kenshin just scratched his head awkwardly and looked away, before a thought struck him.

"Will I have time to say goodbye to Frodo and our friends?" Kenshin asked, when Bilbo winced but shook his head. The samurai frowned, sensing something odd afoot.

"Surely you are going to say good-bye, Bilbo?" There was a sharp note in his tone which surprised the hobbit a bit, whereas Gandalf just raised and eye-brow.

"I-I'm afraid Frodo does not know quite that I'm leaving, if he were to, I am certain he would ask to go along. But I know his spirit is still in the Shire."

Kenshin's initial disapproval in Bilbo's choice to leave his nephew in the dark faded a little after hearing the explanation. It was plain to see the brunette's love of the land. In fact, it was as though he was a part of it. He could hardly imagine Frodo without the Shire.

"You still should reave him a note," Kenshin commented, with his arms crossed.

"I will act as a note," Gandalf informed him, before turning to Bilbo, "and I will also inform him of his new inheritance."

Kenshin looked incredulously at the eldest man. Surely he did not mean to leave the ring with Frodo?

As though reading his thoughts, Gandalf gave him a comforting look.

"I promise to keep an eye on him and to keep him safe, so long as i lies within my power," he vowed.

Kenshin nodded slowly, trusting in the strange old man who had caught him falling from the heavens and become his friend.

It was a strange world.

"Well then, I took the liberty of packing you some things," The Wizard said, proceeding to pull a rucksack from the folds of his cloak.

"_Where was he keeping that?!**" **_The voice asked shocked. The grey cloth fell back at looked just the same.

Gandalf smiled.

"I believe Linda took it upon herself to repair your original clothes. You should find them inside along with some food and more changes of clothes."

Kenshin was struck by the kindness shown to him, and he bowed low, feeling regret that he could not thank her personally, nor say goodbye to her children whom he had grown fairly attached to.

"Pulease thank her for me, she is most kind."

Gandalf nodded, as Kenshin slung the pack over his shoulder.

The wizard turned and engulfed his hobbit friend in a hug, whispering words of friendship and care.

They separated after some time, and after staring at each other for some time, Kenshin and Bilbo departed on the dark and dusty road.

Kenshin made one last look back at the grey figure standing on the precipice of light, before he and Bilbo walked into the dark and unknown land.

* * *

Thank you very much for reading! I would really appriciate any feedback.

I'd also like to know if you should like me to narrate his journey with Bilbo or skip right to Rivendale, like I intended?

Btw's . . . Inuyasha is the shit!

Anyways, thank you very much, I hope you like how the story is going.

**RE**view?


	4. Dude, Metal Toothpicks HURT!

Wow. Yeah, this is rather awkward for me. Awfully late, I know. My only excuse is that I started a new project on livejournal that's a Beatles fic . . . I have too many projects running, methinks.

Thank you for the interest! I was expecting to maybe get like, 3 reviews tops for the entire story, but I have been blown away by your reaction.

So thank you everyone who reviewed!

Here's the next part, hope you like.

* * *

**Chapter 4: Dude, Metal Toothpicks HURT!**

* * *

The light was the golden hue of a dying sun. Such a state was held perennially in Rivendale, and it shone magnanimously upon his face.

"_Oi."_

The Wind whispered through the trees, soothing his skin and ruffling his hair.

"_Rurouni."_

The very area echoed of placidity-

"_Rurouni!"_

Calm and quiet as any lake could be-

"_Hey, stop ignoring me!"_

Absolute silence-

"_I'm talking here you stupid asshole!"_

Peaceful and relaxed-

"_Stop being such a girl and-"_

"_No," _Kenshin finally answered back, all his attempts at enjoying the environment ruined by the pestering of the voice in his head.

"_No what?"_

"_We are not having this discussion again."_

"_Yes, we are,"_ the voice affirmed.

"_No, we definitely are not."_

"_Stop trying to put this off for any longer!"_

"_I refuse," _Kenshin stated curtly.

"_You don't get a choice in the matter!"_

"_Pretty sure it's my body, ergo my choice . . ."_

"_Wrong. Look, if your stupidity gets you killed, I'll die too! I'm not gonna let that happen just because you're feeling like a petulant little girl who lost their favorite doll," _The voice scoffed.

"_. . .Was that supposed to convince me?"_

"_Did it work?"_

"_No."_

"_You know it has to be done, so let's do it already!" _The voice snapped.

"_I won't do it."_

"_Ugh! You're such an idiot!"_

"_I'm not getting another sword, and that's final," _Kenshin declared stubbornly.

Had anyone walked by at this particular moment, they would have seen Kenshin, sitting up in an autumn colored tree, frowning and furrowing his brow every couple of seconds, as well as pursing his lips in unhappiness. In addition there was a steadily growing twitch in his eyebrow, which really just put the finishing touches on his irritated aura.

Really, he was trying to enjoy the serenity of Rivendell, and the voice was pursuing the same issue it had been for the past four months. Believe him when he said, that it truly had gotten old after the first _day, _and four months from then, his answer was still the same.

It was just not happening.

Kenshin refused. Firstly, it would blow his cover, of being an innocent. Secondly, he didn't particularly want to invite any form of fighting upon himself just by carrying around a sword.

Thirdly, and far most important, from what he had seen, they did not make swords anything similar to what he was used to. The swords he saw were bulky. The blade was wide and the hilt was overly large. Also, there was no bend in the metal that increased speed. In short it lacked all the grace and speed that katanas had. They were unlike any kind of swords he was used to, so any attempt at trying to use one would probably be pointless, and he wasn't about to spend the years it took to master another fighting style suited to that kind of weapon. He didn't plan on being there THAT long after all. . .

Not to mention the _little_ fact he refused to kill anyone, and he had yet to see anything signaling the fact they had a sword that could accomplish protection and ensure such. Even when the elves had graciously shown him their smithy and he haltingly asked the blacksmith, the only thing he received was confusion, and gentle queries as to if he was quite sure if that was the word he really meant to say, or if he was confused.

So all in all, the answer was perfectly clear to Kenshin. No sword that can't kill + No sword he could use + Blown cover = no sword.

If only the voice could see that too.

"_I'm not saying you have to kill someone or anything, this is just in case . . ." _the voice suggested smoothly.

Kenshin let out a frustrated sigh.

"_No. We don't need to draw unnecessary attention to ourselves."_

"_Yeah, and being here without a weapon is a preferred avenue?"_ The voice asked.

The Rurouni felt his hackles rising, and prepared his response, though he was destined not to deliver it.

"Kenshin, what are you grueling over up in the trees?"

Said samurai was so startled he almost fell out of the tree. Looking down, he spied a dark-haired elf, Rúmil, looking at him curiously, amusement plain in his eyes. Flushing in embarrassment at being caught arguing with himself, he slipped down the tree onto the springy green earth.

Scratching his head awkwardly, he replied, "I'm afraid I was caught up in my thoughts, that I was."

The elf cocked his head curiously at his strange manner of speaking, as though it was some fascinating anomaly in the universe. He didn't say anything though, having learned by now that Kenshin was as good at saying something, without really saying anything, as the elves were.

"It saddens me to see you in such a state of inner turmoil so difficult that even the tree folds towards you, trying to aid," Rúmil spoke genuinely, though the sentiment was somewhat lost as Kenshin jumped away from the tree in panic. Realizing that the elf was either observing something Kenshin himself couldn't see, or being vaguely metaphoric, he relaxed and looked pointedly to Rúmil, whom ignored the gaze.

"Please, is there anything I can do to soothe you?"

Kenshin gave a nervous laugh.

He was unused to such blatant and open earnestness. The Rurouni was accustomed to a more reserved society, even Sano, who wore his heart on his sleeve, did not take as many liberties as those in this world did. The laughed, sang, touched and danced when the fancy struck them, hiding little of themselves. It was similar with the hobbits, though them, with far more hugging, singing and dancing. (Preceded, often, by drinking.)

He had yet to decide if he liked this openness or not.

On the up side, it certainly was a bit more unrestricted, and this often led to him being dragged into many situations both fun and new as the elves revealed to him their world.

The only downside was that they were far touchier, and more open about their emotion and concern, which often left Kenshin stumbling around to respond to such words.

Either way, he found it heartening to see such people who cared so much about others, despite the fact that the depth of their concern was more than he was used to. (Which was funny, because unless they were possessed by mischief and a gay air, their faces remained stoic, but it was unquestionable that they felt as deep, if not deeper, than any normal person Kenshin knew.)

"It is fine, thank you though. This one appreciates your concern very much," He finally voiced aloud, to which Rúmil nodded in understanding.

"Inform me if that should ever change and I will do whatever I can."

Kenshin nodded, a little flushed.

"In the meantime, perhaps you would like to join some of us in our daily _Nuquerna Salka,_" Rúmil invited, a free smile back across his face.

Nodding, Kenshin and he walked through the dense foliage to a clearing where several other elves were already gathered. There were about ten in all, all varying in appearances, some talking and others stretching their long willow-like limbs high to the sky. He watched, very impressed with their flexibility and grace. It was then Rúmil announced their presence with several greetings. Many of the elves descended upon them, returning the greeting and inquiring Kenshin about his state of being. He nodded and replied kindly to each one, returning the sentiment.

It felt sometimes like the entire Elven race knew about him. His appearance and story were inexplicably interesting to them. They had practically pried all the knowledge he had out of him, and spread it among themselves. The race as a whole seemed to wholly value knowledge, which Kenshin could appreciate.

Though, maybe next time it would be better if he wasn't their focus of interest.

Either way, he did enjoy his new acquaintances, they seemed honestly genuine and it was refreshing.

It was then he spied an elf he had never seen before, hovering on the edge of the circle, catching the proceedings with a mixture of slight disapproval and mild suspicion. Their eyes caught, and Kenshin felt the piercing blue evaluating him. He shifted in discomfort, drawing Rúmil's attention.

"_Mellon_ _nîn!_" Rúmil greeted excitedly, noticing the outlying elf. He strode forward and a genuine smile quirked on the other, unknown, elf's mouth.

"It is so good to see you; I did not know you were coming to join us in Rivendale! When did you arrive?"

"I only arrived this morning, I am also glad to see you again," The other elf answered warmly. His eyes flickered back to Kenshin in askance.

Rúmil noted this and urged Kenshin forward to the tall blond elf.

If Kenshin had ever felt short being around Sanosuke and Saito, it really was nothing compared to being around the elves. They were ridiculous!

"_They're tree people!"_

It was a bit of change of pace after being around the Hobbits for so long, as he had a foot or two advantage over them.

"This is Himura Kenshin, our visitor from another world. Has news of this reached Mirkwood?" Rúmil asked inquisitively.

The other elves eyes lit up in surprise and he re-examined the red-head before him, now with open wonder.

"Yes it has. It is a popular subject and I must admit to being quite curious about it myself," He spoke, his gaze considerably softer than when they had initially met, though still not completely at ease. A new inflection of curiosity colored his expression.

"It is a pleasure to meet you," Kenshin greeted with a polite bow, making the other elf blink.

"And you as well," he responded, before hesitatingly returning the slight bow, making Kenshin's eyes light up.

"Kenshin, this is Legolas, the prince of Mirkwood."

Now it was Kenshin's turn to blink. A prince? Really? He hardly looked different than any elf here. He wasn't dressed particularly formally either. In fact, there were slight stains of dirt on his clothes. Kenshin couldn't help but find it peculiar how relatable he seemed, no different from anyone else here. Not to mention the fact he had bowed with equal respect to Kenshin.

Kenshin found himself smiling, and was pleased when it was returned.

Though initially confused by the elves behavior, he was beginning to get an understanding of it, (though their flowy language still eluded him. )

When he had first arrived in Rivendell about four months ago, he was treated with wariness and a grain of disdain. He wasn't sure if it was because he was a newcomer or because he was unusual in appearance. It had been explained to him by a thoroughly exhausted Bilbo, who was racked with irritability and horrendous shivering, that some did not look on humans as favorably as others. It was Kenshin's first experience of the racism Gandalf had spoken of some time ago, and he was set a little off balance by it. The hobbits had welcomed him with relatively open arms, but the elves were an entirely different matter. From what he had observed, a select group clearly felt they were superior and believed that there was something inherently dirty and evil about men.

The elves had taken much longer to accept him into their fold, but eventually, his gentle and compassionate personality drove them to acceptance.

About a month in, he was finally able to explain his circumstances to Lord Elrond and have his claims backed-up by Bilbo, who had finally survived the worst of his withdrawals, and was then much more agreeable to helping Kenshin. Whereas before he had cussed out him and his mother for not letting the elder hobbit go back to the Shire, (just to visit, or because he'd run out of tobacco already, mundane reasons of course . . . . .)

It was after that particular explanation that the door was wide open for questions of every sort, and the elves were as hungry for information as Frodo was. They began to spend more time with him, hanging on his every word as he elaborated on every subject from the trees, to the manners, feeling both joy and sadness as he spoke of his homeland. Through the time shared, the elves had become fond of him and took more time to help him perfect his use of the common tongue, and teach other information they desired to share. It was around that time, he had also met with some Elvish scholars who were experts in his language. They were fascinated and delighted as he explained to them the spoken founds for the characters, though they seemed to have intense difficulty understanding that every syllable pretty much always made the same sound so matter what other syllable they were sitting next to. Still, the sharing of knowledge had benefitted every one. Months later, some of the excitement that had been pooled around him had died down, and he more or less became a part of their community, something he had mixed feelings about, but he was still grateful.

In any case, Elrond had promised him that he would look through his tomes and see if he could find anything about his world or a way to return.

Seeing how long and well recorded Elven history was, it would take some time. So far, after four months, all Elrond had managed to unearth was dust.

So, in the meantime, Kenshin decided to entertain himself by improving his language skills and taking part in the Elves' practices, so he wouldn't dwell too much on negativity.

The _Nuquerna Salka_ was one such practice. It translated to 'Reverse Dance' and it was a series of stretches and poses meant to challenge the body's strength and flexibility.

Though Kenshin was perennially looking horribly inflexible compared to the elves, he enjoyed the exercise and it left him feeling in better shape.

The group finally settled down enough so that they could begin with the exercises.

The beginning poses were simple, and held for a relatively short amount of time. Gradually the positions grew more complex and were held for interminable periods of time. Kenshin felt a bead of sweat slide up his face as he focused intently on breathing and the grass below him. Forearm flat against the earth, their bodies were lifted from the ground, spines curved back, legs hanging just above their heads, giving them an almost oval shape. The upward position was only held by rigid muscle control. The first ten minutes, Kenshin was able to hold it, still as a statue, but as it neared the twenty minute mark, his arms and midsection began to burn making his body tremble slightly. After five minutes of tremors and burning sensations, he conceded defeat and let himself fall onto the green earth, panting slightly. Flat on his back, he stared at the depthless blue expanse before him, paying mind to the lazy white puffs that floated along slowly like ships.

He was struck suddenly by the situation.

Here he was, stranded in an unknown land, with people of a kind he'd never imagined, learning a language entirely different than his own, doing stretches, and cloud watching.

It was funny. He didn't quite understand why, but it was.

He fell into a spiral of breathless chuckles, throwing his forearm over his eyes to block the sun. Stifling his laughter, so as not to disturb the other elves, (who had probably been thrown out of concentration by his noise,) any further than he had.

Turning his head, he watched Rúmil fall forward elegantly landing easily on his feet. The sight made his attempt at calming down fail miserably, and the chortles continued. Legolas flipped over delicately too and he watched Kenshin with a bemused expression and a raised eye-brow.

"Are you alright, friend?" Rumil asked, with a peculiar look on his face.

Controlling himself, Kenshin nodded and sat up, a few last laughs escaped his lips, and the mirth was evident in his eyes.

When he noticed their enquiring expressions, he made an effort to explain himself.

"I am sorry, that I am. The moment just overwhelmed me I suppose. It's only that the thought just struck me about how strange it is to be doing things like these while being in a different world. Not that I ever even imagined being in another world. . ."

They watched him quietly.

"It's just . . . . just sometimes this feels so unreal."

The cerulean sky was the same, but yet it wasn't. It mocked him from above. He felt his natural high from the amusement he reaped fade, and bitterness replaced it.

His mood was falling all over the place. He had been here far too long.

Or perhaps it was just a rush of blood to the head.

Trying to compose himself, he took a breath, yet even as he spoke a wave of sadness came crashing over his mind swallowing it whole.

"Sometimes it seems like I won't ever get home, like I will . . . . _die here."_ The last part he tacked on it his head, leaving the broken sentence to hang in the air, a small seed of hopelessness growing in his chest.

He had already been in this world for six months. An entire half of a year. Elrond had been pouring over the tomes, and still there was no answer. He had hoped in Rivendell that he could get help, and whilst he waited, he decided to use his time productively. But four months later, he was still doing these stretches, still improving his knowledge of the language, still arguing with the voice in his head; he was still _here._

And that fact ate him up from the inside.

He tried to avoid thinking about it, he did everything in his power, but the fact still remained.

Was it his destiny to spend the rest of his days here? Purposelessly filling his time ever awaiting the hope that the elf Lord would find a way back home? It began to feel like purgatory, a cage in which he had only fading memories to comfort him.

There was a silence, during which he remembered the presence of the others and what he had just revealed.

Realizing what he had shared, he felt embarrassment well up within him. When had he gotten so weak? So prey to his emotions?

"_How have you forgotten? Never show our true feelings," _The voice chastised coldly, a familiar sense of animosity peeking through. "_Here you are feeling pitiful and switching from emotion to emotion like some hysterical woman . . . pathetic."_

He knew better, he really did. It didn't matter how alone he felt, or vulnerable, or overwhelmed. It was no excuse to show emotion, let alone tears of all things. He felt a wave of self-loathing.

He was stronger than this. He should be able to handle this.

But he couldn't. Why couldn't he?!

"I am sorry, usually I have better control. Forgive my lapse," Kenshin bowed his head slightly, the shadow hooding his eyes. He had needlessly laid his issues on others, when he should have been strong enough to deal with them and this situation. He was weak though.

The dark thoughts twisted within him like a whirlpool.

And he was drowning.

Twin alabaster lights reached into the swirling miasma of negativity. His violet eyes lifted in surprise as he saw Legolas and Rúmil standing near him, hands extended before them, with a gentle kindness in their eyes. Their eye color shifted and melted into a brown and dark-blue he knew.

"_Sano . . . Kaoru."_

"Let us help you," Rúmil spoke, the double meaning sinking into Kenshin like a jolt of ice-water that made him feel more awake than ever.

That was right, he had made friends here. They were there for him too. A small weight was released as he remembered the hobbits, and his elf friends. They had accepted him and aided him, and he truly thought himself better off from having known them.

"_Maybe not as alone as we thought."_

Tentatively taking their smooth hands, he let them pull him up in a standing position, feeling a warm glow permeate him.

The three stood in a close triangle. Making sure to make eye-contact with Kenshin, which on any other occasion would have seemed piercing and difficult to bear, but right now, the sheer presence of them comforted him.

They were real. He was real. This was real.

And that mattered.

"Thank you," He said simply, blushing a little as he did so. The elves just smiled.

About twenty minutes later the rest of the elves had finished the final level of stretches, though Kenshin, Rúmil and Legolas merely watched from the shade of a nearby tree, chatting quietly as they did so. Many of the others dispersed, leaving to take care of their own comings and goings. The trio hung back, trying to put-off returning indoors for as long as they could. The meandered for a little while before they stumbled upon an archery target.

"The wind is low today; a perfect day for a little archery, do you not agree?" Rúmil asked with a faint hint of a challenge in his eyes.

"Depending on the archer, any day is a good day to shoot; high wind or no," The blond quipped, accepting the contest before him.

A little off to the side, Kenshin frowned at the unknown word, wondering what they were talking about.

"What is 'ah-cha-ri?'" He asked, and Legolas deigned to answer him, though nonverbally. A whizz split the surrounding air, followed by a solid thunk. Peering down the alley, he spotted an arrow embedded neatly in the center ring of the target.

Oh.

He was knew what that was. Though his experience with archery had been with him on the receiving end, usually as he was fleeing a premises . . .

He watched the exchange of banter and the flight of the arrows with interest.

"Would you like to try?"

He blinked, staring dumbly at the bow offered before him. He grasped it hesitantly, and let them shepherd him in front of the target. Feeling unsure, he knocked an arrow, vaguely recalling learning the basics sometime while he was under Hiko's tutelage. Trying to cast his mind back that many years was relatively unsuccessful. Those memories were hazy and littered with colorful insults his master had tossed out on the fly. He gratefully accepted Legolas' help aiming. Soft pushes guided his bow to a more stable position. Flashing him a look of gratitude, he honed his focus on the red target before him. Sucking a breath in, he drew the bow back fairly far, his arm muscles as tense as the thin, corded bow string.

Exhaling, he let the feathered wood fly.

He watched it soar through the air, . . . and land anti-climactically next to the target.

"Ah, well archery has never been a strong point of mine," The red-head commented as he scratched his head. Quite on the opposite end of the spectrum, the elves were impressed.

"Do not sell yourself short, friend, our bows take a great deal of strength to even pull back. Especially for a human . . ." Rúmil commented, shaking his head. There was a surprising amount of strength hidden in his small companion. Watching him shift awkwardly at the praise, pink garb swaying with all the excess fabric it carried, Rúmil was struck once more by the mysteriousness of his friend.

"I noticed before, when we helped you up, have you studied swordsmanship before? For surely to have such callouses, you handled a weapon of some sort," Legolas wondered. Interestingly, Legolas had recalled they were in different places than ones he usually saw. He chalked it up to a difference of style.

Kenshin hesitated. To answer honestly, or not to, that was the question.

"_They already saw the callouses, there isn't much of a point trying to hide it now,"_ The voice logically explained. Grudgingly, the Rurouni agreed.

"I learned long ago," He answered simply, no offering up any more information.

"Would you like to practice with a short spar?" The dark haired elf offered, already pulling his sword from its sheath eagerly. Legolas rolled his eyes, but pulled his sword out and held it kindly before Kenshin.

Feeling trepidation, it was only magnified by the completely overbearing excitement he felt resonate from the voice. Pushing him forward he accepted the weapon, and pulled it from its sheath. It felt odd and heavy in his hands. It had been a long time since he had used another sword besides his Sakbatou and the oddness was only added to by the difference in shape and style of the metal. Lifting it, he felt awkward and overly bulky as he made a few motions with it. The hilt made it ridiculously difficult to hold it properly horizontally with two hands as he was used to. Conscious that both of the elves were watching him curiously, he settled with it in a basic stance, and locked eyes with Rúmil. Taking it as a sign to begin, the lithe creature moved with cat-like grace in a small circle, forcing Kenshin to move with him, or risk an attack from behind.

"_Come on!" _The voice urged him, "_Let's see exactly what these swords are made of."_

Moving forward, he made a swift upward strike. Or at least that was what he meant to do. Instead of a graceful strike, the extra weight made the sword move against his intentions. As Rumil moved to parry, the swords clashed together, and Kenshin couldn't find purchase in his grip. The sheer force he applied sent the sword spinning into the air, far above their heads. They watched in fascination as it arched and landed with a 'shink' into the soft earth. What followed was a very awkward silence.

"Oro?" He muttered in surprise.

A clear laugh finally poured from Legolas' mouth, quickly followed by one from Rúmil. Kenshin just rubbed his head awkwardly.

"_I think that was a pretty definitive answer," _Kenshin said to the voice, who remained silent which elicited a grin from his counterpart.

"It was a valiant effort friend," Rúmil informed him, a smile still spread across his face.

"Ah, I do not think I am really suited to that kind of weapon. Thank you though," Kenshin replied, pulling the sword from the earth and handing it back to the blond elf.

"I hope there is no damage to the blade," He continued, with a furrowed brow.

"It will take more force than that to damage a blade of Elvish make," Legolas assured him, replacing it in its sheath with one smooth motion. "Particularly one forged in the fires at Mirkwood, many enchantments guard my blade," he continued.

Perhaps Legolas had been wrong about callouses, maybe they were from farming or some other activity their friend partook in on the other side.

"Oh yes, I had been meaning to ask, what brings you to Rivendell, my friend," The dark-haired elf wondered aloud.

"I am responding to a summons from Lord Elrond, he asked for representatives from our land, and I was chosen," He explained.

"Do you have an inkling as to what he desires your advice on?"

The prince just shrugged.

"All I know is that there is a member from every race gathered in Rivendale. The wind of change is blowing, and it warns of things to come," He murmured quietly, staring beyond what was before him.

As if responding to his words, a breeze picked up, blowing past the autumnal city.

"_Ominous . . ." _Kenshin thought, never liking the sound of such things, they always spelled misfortune.

"_Are you sure you couldn't give it another go? Perhaps if you practiced a little more with it . . ."_The voice put forward.

"_You're still on that?"_

"_Yes, I AM still concerned with our safety and wellbeing," _The voice spoke sarcastically.

"_And you think after that little example, this is still a good idea?"_

"_Well . . . it wasn't . . . a complete success," _It answered shiftily.

"_That's putting it mildly,"_ The Rurouni said with a sigh. Even he hadn't expected it to end so badly.

Kenshin felt the voice preparing a response and cut it short.

"_You and I both know this isn't going to work, now stop behaving like a child who doesn't get to play with their favorite doll,"_ He took unholy satisfaction at shooting those words back at the voice.

The voice spoke not a word in return, in lieu, it choose to retreat to a darker area of his mind to sulk.

Kenshin just laughed.

Rúmil was unable to help the relief that formed over his face as he watched his friend laugh freely. He had long since grown accustomed to his friend's odd quirk of laughing out of the blue, (or in some cases, growing angry, or frustrated with no real explanation.) Whatever the cause, it gave the dark-haired elf joy.

"It must be hard, to deal with such a change. He has adapted remarkably well," Legolas remarked, in their native tongue, noticing the change of expression upon the other elf's face.

Kenshin peered confusedly at the pair, their elegant words flying right over his head. He had a feeling it would take far longer than five months to even grasp the basics of that particular tongue.

"I know, his character is strong. This is the first time I've seen behave in an unwell manner and he has been here for five months. Rarely does he show his true emotions, even to close friends," Rúmil said, his lips forming an unhappy line, before he sighed.

"I think I will return to the main building, thank you for the company." Kenshin gave a little bow, feeling that perhaps the elves had personal matters to discuss.

"It was a pleasure to meet you," Legolas bowed once more and Kenshin returned it with a grateful smile.

"Be that as it may, perhaps a little time and patience will allow him to be more free in good company," The prince spoke wisely.

They watched the red-head walking into the sunlight at an easy pace, an air of calmness emanating from his form, denying any trace of his former distress and despair.

"One can only hope, One can only hope."

The wandering samurai reveled in his victory. The silence of the voice was the most beautiful lack of sound, he had ever not heard. Finally, he was able to walk through the woods in peace and qui-

Wait . . . He froze in his tracks, listening to a familiar pattering sound, that he could not recall the name of.

He knew that sound.

Blurs raced towards him in a flurry of movement from a nearby bush. It was a split second decision to stop his natural and violent reflexes, which saved his would-be assailants. A few seconds later, he felt relief at his choice. A few seconds after _that_, gravity set it and things started falling.

They bowled over each other, landing in a heap on the floor of the stone foray. A long 'Oro' was drawn out from Kenshin as he saw spirals, feeling the effects of being at the bottom of such a pile.

"Look what you did, you ran over Kenshin!"

"IT's not my fault; it was your idea to scare him!"

"Yeah, to scare, not to attack!"

"I was just following your lead!"

"Ano . . . could you please remove yourselves?" Kenshin asked, his voice muffled from fabric and weight.

The assailants scrambled off, revealing themselves to be exactly who the wandering swordsman had expected.

"Merry, Pippin, when did you get here!?" Kenshin asked staring delightedly at his two small friends.

"Kenshin! Still keeping together I see," Merry greeted with a hug.

"We arrived a few weeks ago!"

Kenshin blanched. That long? Pipin wasn't done and he continues on in an eager and ambling fashion.

"We?" Kenshin asked.

"We came with Frodo and Sam and Gandalf, and there was a ranger and he gave us all swords which I was hesitant to use at first, mind you, but in the end I was all WOOSH and WHAM and-"

Examining Kenshin's expression, Merry's brow knitted together.

"You didn't know we were here did you?" He asked quietly, stopping Pippin's chatter.

Kenshin shook his head in reply, a look of frustration sneaking over his face.

"Why didn't you know?" The younger Hobbit asked.

"I suppose they kept it a secret from me," Kenshin said, a small bubble of bitterness flowing up. He had been blind to any deceit because he had never been expecting it.

"_This is all because you trusted these people too soon. Where trust is blindly given, betrayal is quick to follow," _The voice cynically put forth, mentally shaking its head at the Rurouni. "_You've no one to blame but yourself."_

"Oh. Do you think that's why Gandalf always was saying you were too busy to come by?" Pippin asked innocently. Kenshin felt tumultuous. It would certainly explain why the elves were keeping him so occupied with many activities.

"It seems to be so, Pip," Merry said, frustration also twisting his expression now.

"Why would they do that?" he asked childishly.

The other two just stared at him.

Merry sighed and moved to ruffle the younger hobbits hair.

"I don't know Pip, I don' know."

There was a slight lull in their conversation, before Kenshin stopped ruminating darkly long enough to ask them what had happened.

Merry was the one who answered, and his replies were vague and it felt as though he was leaving some key points out. Pippin would look like he wanted to jump in and add some facts, but then Merry would give him a quelling look, and the younger would shift awkwardly. They were being careful. Too careful. What could it be that would get them so careful and secretive.

"_Ahhh."_ He realized.

"If you guys are trying to avoid talking about the ring then I must inform you, I already know about it."

The looks on their faces was nothing less than comical.

"How do you know about it!?"

"Gandalf spoke to this one about it before," He replied before frowning, deciding the words weren't as good as he thought. Sessha didn't translate very well to English. He'd have to find another way to express himself humbly.

"Really? He knew that long ago? That's Gandalf for you I suppose," Merry commented.

"Merry! We're going to be late!" Pippin realized as he began to urge his friend.

"I almost forgot! We've got to get going, ah Kenshin come with us!" The older hobbit invited the redheaded man. Kenshin allowed himself to be pulled along with their tugging on his gi.

"Where are we going?" He asked getting slightly dizzy from their erratic pace and quick direction changes.

"A secret council!"

"Shhh! Pippin! Don't say that so loud," Merry hissed under his breath.

"Right, sorry," Pippin continued in a much quieter tone.

A bit bewildered, Kenshin let himself be dragged into their madness. They leapt past greenery, skirting around a large building, carefully ducking out of view every time they spotted another person. Kenshin was amazed when he saw a group of dwarves. He recognized them from their shortness and distinctive facial hair, far thicker and stronger than any hobbit could grow. They were exactly how Gandalf had described them to him, and he would have liked to get closer to see them and maybe chat, but Merry and Pippin would not be denied.

With great swiftness, the trio circumvented the structure, ending up behind a very tall bush. Pulling back a little foliage, they could make out the scene of the council, but there still was enough left to protect them. He sweatdropped at their obvious hiding spot. Anyone with an ounce of common sense would know they were behind the bush. When no one took action, he decided the group was either very tolerant or very slow-witted.

Kenshin scanned the gathering with amazement. Men, Dwarves, Elves all together in one place. The image was an interesting one to process. They each seemed to stick to their own kind, barely glancing at the other races. A flash of pale blonde led his eyes to Legolas, who looked far more stern and business like than he had a mere hour or so ago. Whatever the council was about, it seemed serious. Spotting curly brunette hair he spied Frodo who was sitting awkwardly in one of the chairs. His face looked a bit gaunter than the last time Kenshin had seen it and it made him wonder what had happened since he'd last seen his friend. Right beside him was Gandalf, dressed in his usual grey robe and hat. Kenshin felt ambivalent. He was glad to see a familiar face, but after what he'd just learned he wasn't too sure.

Lord Elrond asked Frodo to present the ring. Kenshin felt a nauseating pull towards the dark and twisted object while at the same time feeling the urge to leave immediately. It was as though he was a very confused magnet. There was some power buried deep within the ring. Something ancient. Kenshin felt a shiver wrack his body, and he forced himself to focus on the other people attending.

Watching the proceedings, he felt like he had gained a fair grip on some of the personalities circling the room. Certainly there was an issue with egos. Each member of their race seemed to think it was a competition against the others to get the ring. It was a bit painful to watch them fighting against each other instead of with.

"Well they're getting nowhere fast," Merry commented, sounding bored as he watched the council he had thought would be exciting.

"I feel like they should maybe have a bit of ale before discussing things, it makes people much more amiable," Pippin put in philosophically, making Merry smile.

A distinct hush spread over the gathering and Merry, Pippin and Kenshin whipped their attentions back to see what they had missed.

"I will take it," Frodo spoke with wavering confidence, though his posture strengthened and his eyes burned with a new fire.

"I will take the ring to Mordor." Now there was derision in his tone. One which brook no arguments.

Kenshin wondered about the weight his words seemed to hold. The others assembled seemed to think he had just signed up for his own death. Gandalf seemed disheartened, before acceptance washed over him in a single wave. Stating his stance, he stood beside his shorter friend, giving him and encouraging and inspiring smile.

Others soon followed pledging their loyalties, one of every race volunteering in this monumental effort. Sam jumped out from a different bush, declaring his intentions and flushing at Lord Elrond's raised brow.

Kenshin saw the inevitable and moved to let Merry and Pippin race past.

"_Rurouni, don't even think about it,"_ The voice stated firmly, an edge of nervousness to the tone.

"_Frodo will need all the help he can get,"_ The Rurouni replied distantly, his decision slowly being formed.

"_We need to get back home,"_ The voice reminded.

"_Elrond will still be here researching."_

"_Think of your woman, she probably needs you to save her from a snake or something,"_ The carrot wasn't accepted and the voice cursed because the more he pushed it seemed like the more the Rurouni's resolve strengthened.

"_I have friends who need my help here too,"_ Kenshin replied, thinking of Rúmil and Legolas earlier and how they had saved him from his depression.

"_No, I'm serious here,"_

"_They helped me, a stranger to their lands; it's time I returned the favor." _Kenshin rose from his crouched position.

"_Damnit! Listen to me!"_

"_Friends help each other."_ The redhaired man remembered the smile his blue-eyed friend had given him, right off the bat of meeting one another. He had grown to care about those here and since a way back hadn't been discovered, he might as well use his time to help those around him. It was a main principle he had based his way of life around. There were people within his arms reach, and he would protect them.

"I pledge my skills, swordsmanship and anything else I can give," He smiled at Frodo gently, feeling joy at the look of relief which had overtaken his friends face after finding so much support.

A slight snort resounded through the area, and he turned to Rúmil who was looking very flushed at having been caught making the sound. The dark-haired elf stood at the edge of the circle, being a last minute addition to the council and he coughed, being more awkward than Kenshin had ever seen an elf be before.

"Forgive me friend, we do not doubt your heart, but from your demonstration earlier . . ." The prince apologized for Rúmil, trailing off. He did his best to make his tone as non-offensive as possible to keep his friends feelings from being hurt.

Kenshin opened his mouth to defend himself and explain his difficulties with their weapons, but before he could, Gandalf had started to reply for him.

"I think that perhaps the trouble does not lie with the swordsman, but with the sword," Gandalf suggested, his deep voice resounding mysteriously through the clearing, intriguing everyone but Kenshin who felt an unusual jolt of white-hot anger.

"You have it then?" He asked, a bit of his old mannerisms slipping through in his heated state. The wizard observed the younger man's reaction carefully, trying to decipher the oddly rough and minutely aggressive tone.

In lieu of answering verbally, the aged wizard withdrew his katana in one smooth motion.

The sheath gleamed in the light, and the red-haired Rurouni grasped the familiar tool. Kenshin felt a sense of peace sweep through him at the sight of his companion, his instrument that had been by his side through thick and thin. There was still some anger directed at the elderly man. Kenshin had been stressing about this for months, and the whole time it was in the wizard's hands! Though he also felt a little anger at himself, he should have realized sooner. Now it seemed entirely obvious. The wizard was a tricky man and certainly he had no qualms about keeping secrets and other such things from people if it disagreed with his own personal goals.

The voice within him also felt the serenity and safety granted by the weapon, though it regarded the old man warily. There was far more to him than met the eye, and the voice would not soon be forgetting that fact.

"That is no sword! Tis' naught more than a metal stick," The Gondor man, Boromir if Kenshin recalled correctly, ridiculed.

"Perhaps a demonstration is in order," Gandalf spoke thoughtfully, "Kenshin, if you would?"

The redhead stared flatly at the other man before he masked his dissatisfaction with a ditzy smile.

"Ah, I don't think that is a very good idea," He said scratching his head.

"It is nothing to be ashamed of, I too would be feeling the same way if I had to find against a seasoned warrior like myself with naught more than a steel tooth-pick."

The words were meant to reassure Kenshin, but he felt as though his smile was going to crack. What a boastful guy!

"_Rurouni, if you choose not to listen to me in every other matter, please listen now when I tell you to teach him what true swordsmanship is,"_ The voice was icy, willing and ready to go. It did not tolerate such disrespect.

"I feel it would be important for the members to have a grasp of the skills and talents of the others around them. It would make it far easier when planning things strategically," Elrond put in his two cents slowly and methodically.

"Kenshin?" Gandalf queried.

The Rurouni felt boxed in by their logic and admitted defeat.

"Very well," Kenshin reluctantly stated.

"Boromir, since you spurred this, would you like to volunteer?" Gandalf asked.

"I accept, though I cannot promise to be too delicate as this is a test of skill," Boromir warned.

"_Inexcusable," _The voice dearly wanted to be the one participating in this skirmish.

The rest of the gathering backed up, all interested in seeing the foreigner's style and whether or not it was comparable to their own. Kenshin noticed Frodo seemed worried for his sake, beside him, Sam looked supportive, encouraging him silently with his eyes. Merry and Pippin it looked like were having an intense discussion, probably about who they thought would win.

Kenshin shook his head. It was an odd world.

"Whenever you each are ready," Gandalf said, also stepping back to watch. Kenshin slid his sheath into the loops in his pants, enjoying the familiar weight at his side.

"_Let's make this quick,"_ Kenshin thought to himself.

Sliding into a very usual stance, he eased the sword open an inch. The repose of his stance seemed to throw Boromir off who had already drawn his sword.

"Well?" The Gondor man asked, feeling confused by his opponent's lack of movement.

Kenshin remained silent, choosing instead to watch his prey carefully, waiting for the other to strike.

"Alright then, I shall take the first move." The ash-blonde man steadied his grip, approaching his opponent quickly, though not with too much caution. Perhaps if he had prepared better the outcome would have been different.

Kenshin remained placid as a lake as his opponent thunderously came towards him. Not even a twitch when Boromir was nearly within striking distance.

Then, it was time.

Shifting his weight forward, Kenshin whipped his katana out faster than the eye could follow. Shiny metal flicked towards the sky and the shock on the older man's face was overwhelming as he stared at the stub where his sword had once been.

Kenshin realized without the curve to the blade the straight swords were far more liable to break, especially with an attack like that. Murmurs and outright shouts of shock rang through the open area, but Kenshin did not spare the crowd a glance, staring at the man before him who had been coming out of his surprise and into a state of anger.

Throwing his ruined sword to the side, Boromir whipped out twin knives and began circling Kenshin who kept his sword drawn. Now there was caution and weariness in how he regarded the shorter man. His anger betrayed him and Kenshin easily read his movements. The moment Boromir began his attack Kenshin was stepping out of the way, elegantly dodging. He continued the game for a few minutes, giving the blonde man a chance to recover and find a different strategy, though it became apparent Boromir was getting too angry and frustrated for rational stratagem. So as he ducked another knife, Kenshin delivered a single blow the other man's stomach. The attack knocked the air out of Boromir's lungs, making him collapse. Raised voices began to pour out of the gathering.

"Boromir!"

A member of Boromir's group approached Kenshin furiously as other flew to their leader.

"This was nothing more than a scrimmage! Your blood thirsty actions will reap repercussions from the entire kingdom of Gondor!" He threatened wrathfully.

Kenshin was so surprised by the reaction that he did nothing as the oldest man of the group pulled him up by the scruff of his gi. Peering around, he noticed similar expressions, offended, confused and angry, dotted the crowd's faces, even Frodo's. It took a few more seconds for the answer to filter through.

"Oro, I didn't-"

"Silence! You can plead your case before the steward of Gondor!"

"Enough." The voice was raspy and breathless. The man holding Kenshin went white with relief as he saw his leader sit up, seemingly unharmed, not a sign of blood on his tunic.

"But we saw-"

"The blade . . . It's dull," Boromir spoke slowly, surprise entering his voice. Stares began to congregate around Kenshin who was still dangling awkwardly above the ground, or more specifically, the sword held loosely in his grasp.

"A dull sword?" A dark haired man asked quietly from the side, his eyes gleamed intelligently and the Rurouni turned towards him and nodded solemnly.

"The specific style I use can be needlessly . . . harmful?" The word was escaping his mind.

"Destructive?" Frodo supplied helpfully from the side.

"Ah, yes, destructive if not used with this kind of sword," Kenshin explained careful not to state too much information.

"I think you do enough damage with it dull," Boromir spoke a little pained as he sat up.

"I apologize, I did not mean to-"

Boromir waved him off, unconcerned.

"I was actually referring to my sword."

"Yes, I've noticed your swords are a bit less flexible than the ones from my home," The Rurouni tentatively stated.

"Imagine, a sword being flexible," Boromir snorted. "Where are you from anyway? I have never seen anyone who looks quite like you."

Kenshin scratched his head, knowing the answer was not a simple one, though he heard the hobbits chuckling a little bit.

"Perhaps that is a story better saved for a later time," Gandalf suggested, a sparkle of mirth in his eyes. Boromir nodded slightly, accepting the answer for now.

"Well then, ten companions," Elrond started pushing the business along, coughing slightly into his hand, feeling as though the meeting had gone somewhere he never would have been able to predict, even with his gift of foresight. The aforementioned group quickly reconvened in the center, accepting Kenshin into the fold. Naturally they centered around Frodo who was feeling far more comfortable about his task than he was before.

"You shall be the Fellowship of the Ring," Elrond stated powerfully. The silence that followed was strong. . . Until it was broken by Pippin.

"Great, so where are we going?"

Merry cuffed his friend over the head. The groans, good-natured and otherwise were quickly settled as Elrond cleared his throat once more.

"Now that that's settled, there are a few more matters we need to address before the departure. One being your sword Master Boromir."

Kenshin dipped his head apologetically and blushed. He hadn't meant to break the blade!

"We have some of Elvish make you are free to use for your quest," the Lord of Rivendale offered.

"Thank you for the kind offer, but I think I would feel better with one made in the forges of my home," Boromir declined, knowing one of his men would have one he could borrow. Elrond nodded.

"Another is the matter of your garb," The old elf started. Stares were drawn to Kenshin and his vaguely pinkish clothes.

"Oro?"

There were more pointed stares.

"Ah, these are very important to me, though I recognize they aren't very inconspicuous," Kenshin admitted.

"I have taken note of your preferences for your own clothes but at least let us change the color and maybe add some protection," Elrond enticed.

Kenshin agreed though he wasn't overly fond of the idea of them messing with his clothes.

"Color preferences?"

"Besides pink," Merry put forth in a joking manner.

"_Blue!"_

"Blue," He stated automatically, though he frowned at the voice and it's influence. "Grey pants should blend in relatively well," He continued.

Elrond nodded, "I will send someone to fetch your clothes later in the night."

"Arigatou," He thanked, knowing the man understood, and he was graced with a rare smile.

"Prepare yourselves, two days from now you depart on your quest and I cannot say what danger you will meet," Elrond was back to being stern and solemn. The group nodded before they were dismissed. They dispersed into the afternoon air, all a bit shell-shocked by the meeting and its outcome.

Though there was a general vague consensus that the entire plan would either be a great success or a total failure.

* * *

So yeah, trying to keep things moving along.

Thanks again for all the feedback!

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